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* viX 



THE 



SEPULCHRES 



03? 



OUR DEPARTED. 



KEV. 




BY 

ANSPACH, A.M., 



HAaERSTOWN, MARYLAND. 



As flowers which night, when day is o'er, perfume, 
Breathes the sweet memory from a good man's tomb. 

Sir E. B. Lytton. 



Ma^c^i^M^ \ 



PHILADELPHIA: 

LINDSAY & BLAKISTON. 

1854. 









,p> 




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 

LINDSAY & BLAKISTON, 

in the Clerirs Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 

STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN. PRI^'TED BY C. SHERMAN. 



(ii) 



"We honor the memory of that virtue which shall never die; we 
honor those ashes, which the confession of faith has consecrated : we 
honor in them the seeds of eternity. We honor then the body which 
Christ himself honored in the sword, and which with Him, will 
remain in Heaven." — Ambrose, Tom. ii. p. 467. 



(iii) 



BY THE AUTHOR 

TO 

LILLY, 

HIS WIEE, 

WHO IS THE SUN OF HIS DOMESTIC CIRCLE, 

AND THE DEWS OF WHOSE OENTLE SPIRIT CLOTHE, 

WITH THE FRAGRANCE OF FILIAL AFFECTION, 

THE FLOWERS THAT STILL REMAIN 

AND ADORN THE GARDEN 

OF HIS HOME. 



1* (V) 



PREFACE. 



In presenting this offering, it is proper that the 
author should accompany it with a brief statement 
of the reasons which were influential in its prepara- 
tion. 

It is certainly to be regretted, that the earthly resting 
places of the dead are so frequently found in a condi- 
tion of dilapidation and neglect. A grave in ruins is 
such a mournful spectacle that it saddens the heart, 
and throws additional terrors around death. It fills 
us with thoughts so gloomy and distressing, that we 
turn from it with pain, and lose the influence of those 
cheering and softening emotions, which should be 
evoked in our visits to the sepulchre. The tombs of 
our sainted ones should be ranked among our sacred 
things. They deserve to be cherished and guarded 
with religious concern. And so fully is the writer 
persuaded of the importance of cultivating a devout 
regard for the depositories of the dead, that he has 
prepared this work with a view to direct attention to 
the subject, and to contribute something to deepen 
and encourage a feeling which affection inspires and 
religion sanctifles. 

(vii) 



Vlll PREFACE. 

Another object contemplated in the preparation of 
this vokime has been, to assist the bereaved to improve 
their afflictions for permanent spiritual good. It is 
designed to be a companion for the sorrowing. It is an 
attempt to administer the oil and balm of the Gospel 
to wounded hearts; to diminish the weight of grief, 
and alleviate the pains of separation entailed upon 
us by the death of friends; and to reconcile shrink- 
ing Nature to its inevitable fate, by giving expression 
to those considerations of hope, of peace and glory, 
which Christianity throws around the ashes of our 
departed. 

But the author indulges the hope, that while it will 
subserve the purposes indicated, it may also be interest- 
ing and profitable to those who are free from the 
pressures and pains of affliction. For the topics dis- 
cussed are so vitally connected with the great interests 
of man here, and so intimately blended with his 
destiny hereafter, that clothed with the light of hope, 
they constitute pleasant themes for meditation with 
those who are looking forward to a happy immortality. 

Hagerstown, Feb. 17, 1854, 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

13 
Communion with the Past 

CHAPTER 11. 

35 
The Sacredness of the Sepulchre • 

CHAPTER III. 
Visits to the Sepulchres op our Departed S3 



CHAPTER IV. 
Lessons which the Sepulchre imparts '2 



CHAPTER V. 

87 
The Glory op Man 

CHAPTER VI. 
In the Sepulchre the Conflicts of Life end.. 106 

CHAPTER VII. 

At the Sepulchres of our Departed we may learn the 

128 
Value of Life 

(ix) 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

PAGE 

The Sepulchre peoclaims the Evil of Sin 153 

CHAPTER IX 

The Sepulchres of our Departed admonish us to be gentle 

AND kind to the Living 175 

CHAPTER X. 

Posthumous Fame. — The Sepulchre instructs us how to 

live, so as to be remembered when dead 200 

CHxiPTER XI. 
The Repose of the holy Dead 227 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Sepulchre reminds us of the Value and Immortality 

of the Soul 247 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Hope of Resurrection divests the Sepulchre of its 

Terrors, and brings Consolation to the Bereaved 272 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Indestructibility of the Family Bond a Source of Con- 
solation to the Bereaved 294 

CHAPTER XV. 

At the Sepulchres of our Departed we may also learn the 

Right which God holds in us and our Families 312 



CONTENTS. XI 



CHAPTER XVI. 

PAGE 

Future Recognition 329 



CHAPTER XVII. 

The Sympathy of Jesus with afflicted and bereaved Souls.. 348 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
Our Present and our Future Home 368 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Darkness turned to Light, or the Uses we should make of 

Afflictions and Berr.wements 396 

CHAPTER XX. 

Grave-yards and Cemeteries, or the Claims of the Dead 
upon the Living, and the Care which should be 
bestowed upon the Places of their Repose 421 



THE 



SEPULCHKES OF OUR DEPARTED. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

COMMUNION AVITH THE PAST. 



** Voice after voice hath died away, 

Once in my dwelling heard ; 
Sweet household name, by name hath chang'd 

To grief's forbidden word ! 
From dreams of night on each I call, 

Each of the far remov'd ; 
And waken to my own wild cry — 

Where are ye, my belov'd?" 



It is the dictate of philosophy and religion to cherish the 
memories which bind us to the past. To turn occasion- 
ally from the stirring scenes around us, to hold communion 
with the persons and events of that silent world which 
follows on the march of time, is alike profitable and 
pleasant. For if judiciously controlled, this intercourse of 
the thoughts with that w^hich has been, assists us in esti- 
mating and appreciating that which is, while it qualifies us 
2 (13) 



li COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

for that which is to come. The past is an immense 
depository, where bygone ages have stored their treasures. 
Thither should the living repair, to gather the gold of ex- 
perience and the gems of wisdom. Lessons of rare value 
may be gleaned from the written scroll of time. For it is 
only after we have surveyed the ample page of history, and 
wandered along that great highway which begins in Eden, 
and upon which the world's population has journeyed for 
six thousand years, and carefully studied the monuments of 
their intellectual and moral triumphs, that we learn the capa- 
bilities of the human mind. And it is in like manner from 
attentively contemplating the trials and misfortunes which 
those who have gone before us encountered and overcame, 
that we may gather fortitude to arm ourselves for life's 
conflicts, and wisdom to derive lasting good from the adver- 
sities incident to our earthly pilgrimage. The traveller who 
has crossed the Alps, or traversed the desert, may, by his 
recorded experience, greatly benefit others, who, from choice 
or necessity, undertake a similar journey. 

But it is not so much upon distant ages that we would fix 
our meditations, nor yet hold communion with the distin- 
guished of remote periods, as to call up those with whom we 
once held sweet counsel, and whose forms are still enshrined 
in the sanctuary of our souls. And that it is in accordance 
with the Divine will that we should sometimes be occupied 
in such exercises, seems manifest from the nature of our 
mental and moral constitutions. Our benevolent Creator 
has bestowed upon us an organization which neither limits 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 15 

US to the present, nor makes us exclusively dependent upon 
surrounding objects, for all our enjoyments. He has en- 
dowed us with memories of such retentive energies, that all 
the events, painful or pleasant, which make up the record of 
our experience, and all the persons with whom these are 
associated, are summoned at our pleasure before the mind. 
Upon the ample pages of that faculty which keeps us apprized 
of what we have known and felt, are painted with great ac- 
curacy all the joyous scenes of youth. And in that group 
of pictures which impressed themselves there, in all the vivid 
colorings of the spring-time of life, there is not one that we 
would willingly efface. Those rural scenes, amid which we 
spent the morning of our existence, have left such delightful 
impressions, that they are contemplated with satisfaction up 
to the evening of our life. Those noble mountains in whose 
deep shadows we have wandered, and those blooming vales 
where flowed the crystal stream on w^hose moss-covered 
banks we innocently gamboled, and those fountains from 
which we drank refreshing draughts, can never be forgotten. 
And to remember the companions who shared in the enjoy- 
ment of those scenes, and participated in the amusements of 
our childhood, not as men and women, but as children 
clothed in their innocence and beauty, is a pleasure of which 
we would be reluctantly deprived. 

But above all, would we deplore the loss of those images 
of dear departed ones, which are so distinctly engraved upon 
the tablets of memory, and with whom the most interesting 
reminiscences of our life are associated. Although days, 



16 COMMUNION WITH THE PABT. 

and months, and years may have elapsed since inexorable 
death bade us surrender the bodies of cherished ones to the 
grave, and their spirits to God, yet are they still present to 
our minds, beautiful and life-like. And who does not realize 
a melancholy pleasure in recalling departed ones, be their 
images clothed with the innocence and loveliness of youth, 
or marked by the cares and sorrows of age ? And are not 
those hours of solitude, which the bereaved people with the 
recollections and endearments of other days, refreshing to 
them, as pilgrims, who are hastening onward to that blissful 
inheritance, where those move and shine who were once 
fellow-travellers on earth ? So sacred are the memories 
which come thronging from departed joys, and so fragrant 
with the odors of crushed hopes, that the mother from whose 
crown of rejoicing has been plucked her brightest jew^el, 
often w^ithdraws herself from the circle of the living, to hold 
communion with him whose voice is no more heard, and 
whose seat around the hearth is no longer filled. Ay, those 
are holy moments, when at least in thought she presses her 
loved one to her throbbing bosom. And far dearer and 
richer in enjoyment than all the excitements of worldly 
pleasure, are such seasons of retirement and meditation to 
her, who was scarcely appareled in her bridal robes, before 
a mysterious, but wise providence bade her assume the 
weeds of mourning. And infinitely more precious than the 
golden offerings of earth are those moments to her, when 
alone she recalls the manly form of the noble husband, 
to whom she had fondly and securely clung, as the frail 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 17 

forest vine clings to the sturdy oak. And in like manner 
does the hoary-headed sire, who is ascending the last heights 
of the '' delectable mountains," where strains of celestial 
melody come hastening on the air, and the sky is tinged with 
the brilhant hues of that glory into which he hopes soon to 
enter, find pleasure in communing wdth those w^ho have long 
shice quitted the turmoils of earth, and gone to that abode 
of peace, "where the weary are at rest." And such is the 
tendency in all whose faculties are not paralyzed and w^hose 
sensibilities are not blunted, that it may be truly affirmed 
that nature and religion admonish us not to forget or neglect 
the departed. 

There are also many to whom there is little left but 
departed joys. And it is a distinguished favor and a merci- 
fid provision of our heavenly Father, that human hearts can 
re-live and re-enjoy forever all that was beautiful and good 
in the annals of personal experience. It is upon that which 
memory supplies from scenes fled forever, in connection wdth 
that which hope furnishes from the future, that some hearts 
live. For there are not a few to whom the present, with all 
its activities and excitement, is void of pleasure. Persons 
whose known and felt duties are discharged in a manner 
which indicates very clearly that the springs of action have 
received a stunning blow, and that the affections are some- 
where else. Go wdth me to that mansion externally embel- 
lished wi,':h all the marks of affluence, and w^ithin gorgeously 
furnished with all the comforts and decorations which a re- 
fined taste could suggest and wealth command, and what do 
2^ 



18 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

we see ? An air of silence and of gloom pervades those 
halls once filled with light and joyous hearts. Behold the 
mistress of that palace, formerly so brilliant and happy, now 
so sad and pale. All her movements are mechanically per- 
formed ; and her conversation is destitute of spirit. Why is 
that brow, where once played the light of hope, shrouded 
with care? Why are those eyes from which gleamed a con- 
stant sunshine, so dim with much weeping? And why is 
that countenance, once wreathed in winning smiles, now 
covered with a fixed and oppressive sadness? O ! it is the 
blight of death which has fallen upon that home, and its 
shadow still lingers upon its inmates. That mother is often 
missed by the members of the household ; and when sought, 
is found by that little bed in which the loved one last slept, 
or seated by that drawer in which she had deposited the 
memorials of her departed ; and one by one she looks over 
the toys which had amused her child, and the garments 
which it wore, and the golden locks which adorned his brow 
while living. These are links of communication between 
the living and the dead ; they are silent messengers recalling 
many kind w^ords, affectionate smiles, and pleasant endear- 
ments, in w^hich this bereaved one once dehghted. Wearily 
pass the hours, and heavily does the day w^ear away, for a 
weighty sorrow clogs the w^heels of time. 

And as the light of day withdraws, and the quiet evening 
brings the husband from the scenes of his toil, it is not the 
cheerfulness of other days which irradiates his countenance 
as he enters his home. For he hears no little footsteps pat- 



COJVIMUNION WITH THE PAST. 19 

tering over the hall to greet him with their childish welcome. 
He is solemn and thoughtful. . A shade of sadness steals 
over his features, while involuntary sighs rise from out the 
holiest depths of his being. Those merry voices of inno- 
cents which were w^ont to thrill his soul are all hushed ; and 
those sounds which were to him the sweetest earthly melo- 
dies that could greet his ear, have died away, and he only 
hears their faint echoes reverberating through the chambers 
of memory. Distant and indistinct, yet charming his 
thoughts away to the period when his circle was unbroken, 
and no lamb w^as missing from the flock. And not only 
does the deserted place of the hearth remind them that their 
home has lost some of its attractions, but their desolateness 
of heart, and the suggestions of the things around them, bid 
those bereaved parents to seek comfort in communion with 
the past. Nature, in her varying aspects, wakens remem- 
brances of other days, and, therefore, inculcates the same 
lesson. 

Spring, bright, beautiful spring, comes with its soft wnnds, 
its singing birds, and blooming flowers. But fitted as this 
season is to inspire delightful feelings, and aw^aken pleasant 
emotions ; the year in its youth also brings with it, fresh 
recollections of the departed. It is suggestive of painful 
reminiscences, so that w^hile it loosens the fetters of the ice- 
bound streams in nature, and sends them laughing on their 
way ; it also opens afresh the fountains of grief in human 
hearts by the remembrances which it brings. For it tells us 
of those v»rho were arrayed in the freshness and loveliness of 



20 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

the spring-time of life, but who faded before the blossom had 
been succeeded by the fruit. And while the melodies of 
sweet warblers are floating on the air, they remind us of 
accents, which shall no more be uttered on earth. The 
flowers which we had planted, spring up to reward our 
labor. We had their seeds brought from a foreign clime, we 
cherished and tended them, and now, as if with gratitude to 
the eyes that w^atched them, and the hands that cultivated 
them, they wake into life under the Warm breath of the south- 
wind, and unfold their delicate leaves to the kissing sun- 
beams, while they bathe the atmosphere with their delicious 
fragrance. But these are also links which bind us to the 
past, because emblems of our faded glory. They seem 
endowed with speech; for their unsullied purity, their 
delicate structure, their sweetness and their frailty, all vividly 
picture to our minds those flowers which the hand of 
heaven had planted in the garden of our home, but which 
had scarcely bloomed before they withered. Thus it happens, 
that this season, flushed with so many beauties, and radiant 
.with so many joys, carries us back to the period, when hands 
now mouldering in the dust gathered with us the violet and 
the lily, and hearts, now still, beat warm to ours, as together 
we rested by the warbling brook, or rejoiced in rambles 
through field and forest. Blessed, joyous days were those ! 
And blessed be God, that we can recall those scenes, and 
feel those joys which then flowed in untroubled streams 
through the channels of our being ! 

And as the flowery and joyous spring rolls into the golden 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 21 

summer, we find new monitors to connect our meditations 
with summers and friends long since gone. The golden 
harvests remind us of those, who were brought to the grave 
— ^'Like as a shock of corn cometh in his season," full of 
days and honors. The ripe grain and matured fruits of the 
earth, speak of venerable parents, "who having served their 
day and generation according to the will of God, fell asleep 
and were gathered to their fathers." And while this season 
revives recollections of the aged good, and those who were 
cut down in the midst of life loaded with such honors as a 
grateful people can bestow ; it also brings to our remembrance 
those buds of promise which were early transplanted to that 
clime where no withering winds blow, and no burning suns 
consume, but where eternal youth clothes the immortals. 

And as we are ushered into autumn with its sered foliage, 
the countless deaths which we witness in expiring nature 
cause us to think of the beloved who have passed away as 
the grass of the field, and whose glory has faded as the 
flower of the grass. And while emotions of regret are 
kindling within us, the mournful sighings of autumnal winds 
through the stubble and naked shrubbery breathe notes of 
sadness which symphonize with the music of our bereaved 
hearts. The leaves quivering for a moment in the sharp 
blast, then rustling through the boughs in their descent to the 
earth, proclaim the frailty of man. "For we do all fade as 
the leaf." And in the lofty oak stripped of its foliage and 
stretching its bare arms out towards heaven as if in suppli- 
cation that the few leaves which yet tremble on its branches 



22 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

might be spared by the gale, we have a fit emblem of many 
a parent who hke Jacob of old utters his touching complaint, 
"Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and now would ye also 
take Benjamin away ? All these things are against me." 

And thus also when winter comes, it too calls up thoughts 
of the departed. As the mother composes her little ones to 
rest, and draws around them the curtains to shield them 
from the cold air, she thinks of those who sleep far away in 
the silent grave, over whom the night winds blow, and for 
whom the drifting snow forms the only covering. And when 
seated around the cheerful fire, we do not blame her for 
dropping those silent tears as she muses on the past. And 
how painfully do those festival occasions, the happy Christmas, 
and the merry New Year, remind us all of those who once 
participated in the innocent amusements of those seasons ! 
Those time-honored festivals seem invested with a sort of 
enchantment which peoples the hour with all those with 
whom we ever enjoyed sweet fellowship. I know not why, 
but to my mind there is a mysterious influence connected 
wuth the recurrence of Christmas which irresistibly attracts 
me to kindred souls. As the shades of the evening gather 
around me, I seem to hear the fond inquiries and kind greet- 
ings of absent friends as they were wont to break upon my 
ears, and thoughts of other days come thronging back upon 
my mind like spirits from a distant tomb ; — thoughts, some 
bright and beautiful as the images of angels, and others robed 
in gloomy apparel, and breathing soft notes of melancholy 
through my soul. And in that hour the veil of oblivion is 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 23 

lifted and I see all my past life opened to my view, and each 
recurrence of this festival stands radiant with those joys with 
which my happy childhood crowned it. And prompted by 
those yearnings of my spirit for kindred souls, I exclaim, 
'' 0, that I had the wings of a dove," then would I fly to my 
distant loved ones. I would hasten to greet my aged father 
at his fireside, and breathe a prayer at his knees. I would 
pass from home to home, until I had mingled in the joys or 
sorrows of all whom my soul loveth. I would leave those 
earthly abodes and ascend into heaven, and seek among the 
armies of the skies my dear sainted ones, and commission 
one of those sons of light to wing his flight to all my beloved, 
and shake upon their happy circles odors borne fresh from 
the paradise of God. But as it is only in thought that I can 
obey these impulses of my being, I never fail on those occasions 
to breathe the prayer, that He who was born in Bethlehem, 
may be born in every heart, and find a home in every family; 
and that the myrrh and incense of grateful souls may be 
poured upon the altar of Him, who assumed our nature, that 
we might share his glory. And while such feelings and 
yearnings are not peculiar to an individual, but shared in 
common by all whose sensibilities are alive to the force with 
which the law of association operates, it is not marvellous 
that on such occasions our sainted friends should be more 
vividly presented to us, than at any other time. And it is 
therefore not singular that, while we make our little gifts to 
those whom a kind Providence still continues with us, the 
images of those who have gone to heaven should be fre- 



24 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

quently recalled. And then, and then only, can we realize 
the extent of that void which the removal of one little cherub 
produces. It has been beautifully said, " that nothing on 
earth casts so long a shadow as the little coffin." And 
small as are those graves which hold their infant remains, 
they are sufficiently capacious, to gather within their embrace 
the dearest joys and fondest hopes of parental hearts. Ye 
blest little slumberers, ye know not how you fill our thoughts, 
and blend with all our feelings — how our affections now 
linger around your precious dust, and now rise to your bliss- 
ful abode on high. 

That very interesting associations are kept alive with the 
departed, that kind feelings are fostered, and that the most 
tender recollections of them linger in the memories of the 
living, is abundantly manifest from the many testimonials of 
undying affection which adorn the places of their repose. 

Laurel Hill Cemetery, that charming city of many dead, 
will furnish us with illustrations of this truth. Often have I 
regarded with admiration the efforts of survivors, as exhibited 
within that sacred enclosure, to perpetuate the remembrance 
of those who w^ere dear to them. There we meet with many 
tokens which eloquently express the language of wounded, 
but loving hearts. There is one little grave there, on which 
the figure of a lamb, in a state of repose, speaks to us the 
thoughts which are cherished of the innocence, gentleness, 
and rest of the slumberer. There is another, w^here stands 
the guardian angel with his eye fixed upon the slumbering 
dust ; thus imaging the security and happiness of the departed. 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 25 

and reminding the survivors that their sainted are under the 
guardianship of angels, and the companions of those blessed 
spirits who minister to the heirs of salvation. And there, 
too, has the sculptor's chisel fashioned out of marble the 
rose-bud, and the half-blown flower, broken from the parent 
stem and fallen to the earth. And there, also, lies separated 
from the stock, the lily, as fresh and white as though it had 
just dropped. Again, we behold the well-formed urn, the 
broken shaft, the anchor and the cross, all appropriate and 
significant symbols, speaking the language of affection, of 
regret, and of hope, from living and loving hearts. And still 
more delicate and touching offerings of friendship are seen, 
in the many vases and wreaths of choice flowers which are 
daily laid upon the tombs. These tokens of affection assure 
us that warm hearts fondly throb around those places where 
beloved ones repose. Even that stranger who sought and 
obtained a resting-place on the verge of that bank laved by 
the gentle Schuylkill, is not forgotten, for his grave is often 
fragrant from the tributes furnished by delicate hands. 

And not only may we learn from the attractive manner m 
which these tombs are adorned, but also from their inscrip- 
tions, that their inmates were loved, and that they are remem- 
bered. The value of these chaste and costly monuments is 
frequently enhanced by the sublime sentiments v;hich consti- 
tute their records. Let us pause a moment before some of 
these memorials of departed worth, and examine the inscrip- 
tions dictated by piety and affection. There is the stately 
3 



26 COMMUNION y/ITH THE PAST. 

pile which marks the resting-place of the philanthropist, and 
we read — 

'' A friend to the fatherless, and his bounty caused the 
widow's heart to sing for joy." 

'' The blessing of those who were ready to perish, came 
upon him." 

There is the tomb of a beloved parent, with this inscription : 

^' Our mother sleeps ! when will the morning dawn ?" 

Here also is one erected by a Christian congregation in 
memory of him who broke unto them the bread of life, and 
their feelings have found expression in the language of the 
prophet. '^ How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet 
of him that bringeth good tidings ; that publisheth peace ; 
that bringeth good tidings of good ; that publisheth salvation; 
that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!" 

And not far distant do we find the epitaph of a weary 
pilgrim, who hoped and longed for heaven. '' Think of me 
as a w-anderer who hath found his home ! " 

And what breathings of tenderness and words of hope do 
w^e find on the marble of those many little graves, which w^e 
meet in every enclosure consecrated to the dead. In one of 
these there are two reposing, whose spirits, only a few hours 
apart, took wing for the bosom of God ; and it is written of 
them — 

'' Lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death 
/ihey w^ere not divided." 

** Side by side they're sweetly sleeping — 
Little loved ones early blest ; 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 27 

Free from care and pain and sorrow, 
Oh ! rejoice they are at rest." 

And there is yet another, who sleeps lonely and far 
removed from those in whose family crown he shines as the 
first immortal gem with which God adorned it, whose grave 
is guarded by kind friends, and whose history is written on 
his tomb-stone in the sublime words of the great Redeemer ! 
" Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.^ 

Perhaps there are individuals whose sympathies are not in 
unison with sentiments like these, and who may be disposed 
to smile at those expressions of tenderness, which fond hearts 
have caused to be engraved upon the slab which designates 
the spot where their beloved repose; but such are either 
void of sensibility, or they have never tasted the cup of 
bereavement, and are therefore not competent judges of what 
is, or is not, a fitting epitaph. Even if those little records are 
sometimes crude in sentiment, or not remarkable for the 
taste which has decided upon their appropriateness, they yet 
possess an air of sacredness which forbids criticism, even on 
the part of those whose culture and refinement qualify them 
to discriminate between what is, and what is not, offensive to 
good taste. It is not often the language of adulation, but 
that of the heart, which is found upon the tomb ; and therefore 
it is not the intellect, but the heart, which should sit in judg- 
ment upon it. But those who know from personal experi- 
ence, what it is to pass through the deep waters of afHiction, 
and who have felt the pain which accompanies the severance 
of a shoot of life from the heart, will behold beauty, pro- 



28 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

priety, and meaning in those little records, which the 
inexperienced in such trials may not be able to discover. 
Nature seldom if ever acts wrongly, when its operations are 
in conformity with those laws which the Creator has ordained 
for its government. And where reason discharges its appro- 
priate functions, and religion controls these human tendencies, 
those expressions of grief and of hope on the part of the 
bereaved are perfectly consistent, because consonant with 
the laws of our being. And instead of censuring the practice 
of writing in modest language on the tomb of a friend, the 
virtues with which his character was jeweled, and thus 
spreading out to the public eye the history of one whose call- 
ing and condition in life precluded the probability of his being 
extensively and intimately known, we would rather encourage 
it, for the reason that it cannot injure any one, while it may 
benefit some. For the tomb-stone has sometimes been a 
successful preacher ; — one whose discourses have produced 
effects upon the careless, which other instructions could not 
accomplish. In some instances it has been instrumental in 
begetting immortal hope in souls which, until brought within 
its influence, were never animated with gratitude and love to 
God. 

Leigh Richmond, a man of blessed memory, who was 
honored with many seals to his ministry, gives an interesting 
account, in the '^ Young Cottager," of the impressions which 
the reading of those records on the tomb-stones around the 
church, where he was accustomed to meet the children of his 
parish, to instruct them in the principles of the gospel, made 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 29 

upon that child's mind. '^ Sometimes," he says, " I sent 
the children to the various stones which stood at the head of 
the graves, and bade them learn the epitaphs inscribed upon 
them." On one occasion he sent the little cottage girl to 
commit the following epitaph, which he greatly admired. 

** Forgive, blest sliade, tlie tributary tear, 

That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; 

Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, 

And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss. 

** No more confin'd to grov'ling scenes of night, 
No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, 
Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight 
And trace thy journey to the realms of day.'' 

Having finished her task, she returned and informed her 
instructor that she had also learned the following, which he 
subsequently discovered had deeply impressed her mind : 

" It must be so — our father Adam's fall 
And disobedience, brought this lot on all. 
All die in him — but hopeless should we be. 
Blest Revelation, were it not for thee. 
Hail, glorious gospel ! heavenly light, whereby 
We live with comfort, and with comfort die, 
And view beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb, 
A life of endless happiness to come." 

According to her dying testimony, the influence of those 
epitaphs, in connection with the instructions of her pastor, 
which w^ere frequently enforced by illustrations drawn from 
the grave-yard, was instrumental in her salvation. 

And there are, no doubt, many of that multitude who now 
stand radiant with glory in the presence of God, who will 
forever, and with gratitude, remember lessons which they 
3^ 



30 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

learned in the places of sepulture on earth. And while the 
Holy Spirit has thus made sentiments, chronicled upon the 
marble, vehicles through which He has entered and renovated 
hearts, we find in such results, as well as in that com- 
munion of souls which they promote, a sufficient warrant for 
the erection of appropriate memorials to departed friends, 
and an ample vindication of the practice of inscribing there- 
on such epitaphs as nature and religion may suggest. 

And in addition to the considerations already presented, 
we might urge as another argument for the propriety of hold- 
ing communion with the past, the soothing influence which 
it has upon bereaved souls. The present may oflTer to the 
contemplation of an individual a complete prostration of his 
fondest expectations, and spread around him an utterly 
cheerless desolation. Clouds and darkness may hang about 
our path, and the mind may not be able to seize upon a 
single sustaining principle or object fitted to inspire light and 
courage. But as David frequently sustained his spirit by 
the memory of past mercies, so there may be bright pictures 
along the pathway of life over which we have journeyed, 
where our dying hopes may be rekindled. 

*^ There's not a heath, however rude, 

But hath some little flower 
To brighten up its solitude, 

And scent the evening hour. 
There's not a heart, however cast 

By gi'ief or sorrow down, 
But hath some memory of the past, 

To love and call its own." 

The bee does not with truer instinct guide its flight to the 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 31 

far-off flower, than the mind throws its thoughts back to those 
brighter scenes which have gladdened former days. It may 
be that these sensations of pleasure which float along those 
chords of association which connect the present with happier 
scenes, account for the singular phenomenon, that the sweet- 
est of all melody to the wounded and weary is the music of 
their own breaking hearts. But the influence of the exercise 
here recommended does not produce only a mollifying and 
quieting effect upon lacerated hearts, but it may also be made 
subservient to the interests of our salvation* It is a subject 
of frequent remark, that few persons are permanently bene- 
fited by those providential dispensations which desolate their 
homes. The death of a cherished friend which at first 
overwhelmed the heart with the deepest sorrow, becomes 
less painful as the period of its occurrence is removed. 
And as the picture loses its vividness in the distance, the 
resolutions of improvement which had been formed are 
forgotten. This will be the inevitable result where first im- 
pressions are not strengthened and guided to a blessed issue, 
by frequently recalling the scene of trial and considering the 
end which it was intended to accomplish. It is well, there- 
fore, to carry the lessons of their bereavement with them into 
their retirement, and there consider calmly the dealings of 
God with them. And w^e doubt not that the most disconso- 
late may have their sorrows so judiciously and tenderly 
directed, that their mourning will issue in rejoicing; and the 
harps which have long hung unstrung upon the willows will 
again be tuned, and swept to the praise of Him whose ways 
are unsearchable, but whose judgments are right. 



32 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

But if Ave would attain the highest benefits of affliction, 
we must command such a scope for our meditations as to 
associate the occurrences of other days with those great 
realities which are still future ; for it is from comprehensive 
views of human destiny and the Divine government, that we 
derive valuable lessons and solid consolation. The efful- 
gence of those eternal realities which stand out to the vision 
of faith, has its lustre augmented by the reflected glow of our 
departed days of sunshine. For while our affections fondly 
linger around the graves which contain all that was 
earthly in our beloved, our thoughts are charmed away to 
that bright inheritance which their spirits have gone to 
possess. And heaven bars already become more attractive 
to us, because they are there. The eternal song rises in 
louder and sweeter harmonies, because the voices whose 
music gladdened us on earth are mingling in the hymns of 
Cherubim and Seraphim. The white-robed multitude is 
arrayed in a more brilliant glory, because our sainted ones 
are of that number. And the lustre of the New Jerusalem 
has become more resplendent, because in the midst of its 
glories ot^r jewels shine. Blessed, holy ones! how beautiful 
you make the memories of the past, how radiant the pros- 
pects of the future ! It cannot be wTong to indulge in such 
reflections, for they are eminently fitted to assist us in our 
preparations for a better world. That they may be made 
tributary to this end is abundantly manifest from that 
capability of the human mind which enables it to con- 
template wath satisfaction those things amiable in others, 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 33 

the very consideration of which will foster a love for all that 
exalts them in our estimation. By such a process as this 
may the living incorporate into their own characters those 
virtues which they most valued in their departed. And thus 
our growth in moral excellence will be promoted, and we 
will endear ourselves to those with whom we are associated, 
thereby enlarging our sphere of usefulness. Were they 
blameless in their deportment ? So may we become inno- 
cent. Were they distinguished for kindness of heart and 
gentleness of temper ? In us these may also form promi- 
nent characteristics. Did their presence diffuse a glow 
of happiness as doth the blessed sunshine? We may 
imitate their example, and become a blessing to those 
around us. Was their piety the steady brilliant light 
of true heart- devotion ? Upon our hearts also may the 
Divine fire burn, and make us "the light of the world. '^ 
Did hope illumine their hour of dissolution, and did their 
j^pirits take wing from the radiant summit of salvation ? By 
a similar course of life '^ our death may be that of the 
righteous, and our last end like unto his." If we subject 
our hearts to those influences which operated so advan- 
tageously for them, we may expect like blessed effects. 
Take the highest type of Christian character — it is formed 
by a combination of the loftiest of known virtues ; its 
possessor is a centre of light, and exerts a fragrant influ- 
ence, and makes the ways of piety attractive by his gentle 
and Christ-like spirit : still this standard of excellence lies 
within the reach of every humble and sincere follower of 



34 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 

Jesus. Surviving friends may gather all these blessed fruits 
by recalling the excellencies of their sainted ones, if 
they are animated with a similar purpose, accompanied with 
like perseverance and faith. And by such an importation of 
the virtues which shone in the characters of our departed into 
our being, we will derive lasting benefit from communion 
with the Past. And it is by such means that our Heavenly 
father will cause '^ our light afflictions to work out for us a 
far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 

Thus, under the tuition of the Holy Spirit, we may gather 
honey out of the mouth of the destroyer, while a gracious 
Providence wreathes our clouds of dark calamity with 
brilliant bows of promise. From these considerations we 
may see the propriety of holding communion with the past ; 
for it brings the virtues of the departed good into collected 
forms, and makes them flaming orbs, whose light gilds the 
pathway of life and makes our future jadiant with immortal 
hopes. 



CHAPTER SECOND. 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 



** Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect, 

Some frail memorial still, erected nigh. 
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 

Implore the passing tribute of a sigh. 
Their name, their years, spelt by the unletter'd muse, 

The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
And many a holy text around she strews, 

To teach the rustic moralist to die. 
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey. 

This pleasing, anxious being e'er resign'd, 
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day. 

Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind. 
On some fond breast the parting soul relies. 

Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 

E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires." . 

Among the instincts which do honor to human nature, 
there is none deserving of more exalted rank than that which 
causes us to respect the dead, and constrains us to regard as 
religiously sacred the places of their repose. The shrines of 
the dead are holy. A mysterious sacredness encompasseth 
the sepulchres of the departed. There is a stillness about 
the grave which breathes an air of quietness over all the 

(35) 



36 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

scenery around it, and which invests every object with a 
silent, but impressive power. The atmosphere seems to 
partake of the sanctity of the place, and the winds blow in 
softer whispers, because they sigh their requiems over the 
dead. Even the trees and flowers do not there appear as 
gay and brilliant as elsewhere, but are tinged with those 
pleasing melancholy hues which the grave only can impart. 
The graveyard and cemetery are not common ground. They 
are enclosures w^here all is not earthly ; for there the living 
and the dead hold communion, and the influences of two 
worlds blend. God has clothed these acres, where seed 
for the resurrection morn is sown, with a sacredness which 
none but the grossly profane can venture to disturb ; while 
He has also implanted in the hearts of the living such senti- 
ments of reverence for the sainted as will form a perpetual 
bulwark around their slumbering dust. All men seem con- 
scious of the truthfulness of this assertion ; and hence, w^e 
find among all a uniform regard for the graves of the 
departed. 

Children are often the most competent teachers, when 
lessons pertaining to the impulses and instincts of our nature 
are to be learned. They shall be our instructors here. It 
was on a bright morning in May, as I had set out on a visit 
to one of those beautiful cemeteries in the vicinity of Phila- 
delphia, that my attention was arrested by a group of sprightly 
children. I observed them tripping along the hill-side until 
they reached a spot w^here bloomed the violet and hare-bell ; 
and I saw their little hands busily engaged in gathering 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 37 

bunches of these, and they then approached the entrance of 
the sacred enclosure where I stood. As soon as they entered, 
their innocent glee abated, their merry voices subsided into 
gentle whispers, and they moved about with subdued feelings, 
inspecting the graves and reading the inscriptions on the 
tomb-stones. I followed on, until they paused before a little 
grave, and I read on the slab which covered it, the touching^ 
record — " Our Willie." On this tomb two of the little girls 
laid their treasure of violets. Why do you strew these 
flowers on this grave, I asked ? They looked at me w^ith an 
air of surprise, and replied, " Why, sir, our brother Willie 
sleeps here, and we love him, and often bring him flowers!'' 
After the others of their company had made similar 
offerings to beloved ones, they left the place without disturb- 
ing any thing, and w^ith apparently happy hearts. Such are 
the feelings of children, and they exhibit the instincts of 
nature in relation to the sepulchre. And there is no better 
method of ascertaining the remains of that which is com- 
mendable and lovely in our depraved humanity, than by 
observing the unreserved and untaught out-flows and motions 
of the hearts of uncorrupted children. For their minds do 
not yet labor under the pressure of those false notions, which 
are the growth of riper years, but w^hich despoil the heart of 
its early and sweet sensibilities ; neither are they yet the 
subjects of those cares and anxieties which freeze the 
fountain of the soul's sympathies. But it is not only in 
children that we may witness a becoming respect for the 
graves of the departed, but also in all those of mature years, 
4 



38 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

whose culture has not been grossly neglected. And if there 
are those occasionally found who would rudely tread upon 
the dust of a fellow-mortal, they are such as have outlived 
the finer and holier feelings of early years. Yet such are 
seldom met with ; and among the multitudes of those w^ho 
move among the mansions of the dead, there are few whose 
emotions do not partake of the sanctity of the place. And 
this veneration for the abodes of the dead is a sentiment not 
peculiar to an age, or a nation, but is coextensive with time, 
and wide-spread as the human family. For w^hile there may 
exist at different periods a difference of sentiment in relation 
to the same subject, no such diversity has marked the feelings 
of the race in its respect for the dead. One age may prize 
the monuments of art and of science, and cherish with intense 
enthusiasm those trophies of genius which have come down 
to them from a remote period, while their immediate succes- 
sors may be as remarkable for the contempt with which they 
treat those ancient memorials of intellectual triumph. But 
in whatever else mankind have differed in their several 
generations concerning the same thing, this feeling of respect 
for the sepulchre was never impaired, neither is it liable to 
change. From the remotest antiquity down to the present 
hour, have men loved and venerated the silent abodes of the 
dead. 

Various causes have doubtless contributed to invest the 
tomb with a high degree of sanctity. And apart from that 
instinctive veneration for it, of which all are conscious, the 
other causes most active and chiefly instrumental in clothing 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 39 

it with its sacredness, are to be sought in its origin, and the 
profound respect with which it has from time immemorial 
been regarded. Its origin dates far back in history; — to 
such a remote period in the past, that it may be safely 
assumed to be coeval wdth death. And if so, is not its 
origin Divine ? It would seem that such an inference might 
be legitimately drawn from the declaration of God, at the 
time when He announced to our first parents in Paradise, 
the penalty of their disobedience. " Dust thou art, and unto 
dust shalt thou return." While there is nothing positive or 
specific in this language, as to the mode in which the human 
body should be resolved into the dust from w^hich its elements 
had been taken, it would certainly suggest itself to the mind, 
that the most befitting w^ay to dispose of the body would be 
to deposit it in the ground, that it might quietly moulder 
back to its mother. There is moreover a propriety which 
could not escape the consideration of the living, in thus 
removing from their sight the form of a beloved one while 
it still wears the impress of beauty and life, that the 
humiliating process of decay to which all must be subjected 
might be seen only by the eye of Him, w^hose hand will 
reconstruct it glorious and immortal. But if such an infe- 
rence from the sacred text were not allowed, and if we 
could offer no tangible proof that the spirit of God even 
suggested such a disposition of the dead, the custom of 
inhuming has enjoyed the Divine sanction in all ages of the 
world. 

In the most ancient of the Divine records, there are 



40 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

frequent allusions to the grave as a place of sacred rest. It 
is represented as a safe and blessed retreat from the miseries 
of earth, and as a scene of undisturbed tranquillity in contrast 
with the disquietudes of life. Job speaks of '' the house 
appointed for all the living," and hopefully looks forward to 
the tomb, as a place where '' the wicked cease from troubling, 
and where the weary are at rest." 

Abraham uttered the language of nature and religion, 
when he said to the sons of Heth, " give me possession of 
a burying-place with you, that I may bury my dead out of 
my sight," And the offer which the sons of Heth made to 
Abraham, '' in the choice of our sepulchres bury thy dead," 
conclusively shows that inhumation w^as generally practised 
in those times. But Abraham seemed unwilling that his 
sainted w^ife should repose undistinguished among strangers, 
and therefore insisted on purchasing a lot of ground for this 
particular purpose. '' And Abraham weighed to Ephron the 
silver w^hich he had named in the audience of the sons of 
Heth, four hundred shekels of silver, current money. And 
after this, Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the 
field of Machpelah, before Mamre, the same is in the land 
of Canaan." And this lot w^hich he purchased remained as 
a family burying-ground ; for after Abraham had died, the 
sacred record informs us that bis sons Isaac and Ishmael 
buried him in the cave of Machpelah. In this entire 
proceeding of this ancient patriarch, there is a beautiful 
exhibition of tenderness and regard for the dead. He would 
not receive the field as a proffered gift, but paid for it; neither 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 41 

was he willing to accept the offer of a sepulchre, but provided 
one for her whom he loved. It is manifest from his conduct, 
that his feelings concerning his departed were the same as 
the bereaved now experience ; for he neither wished to forget 
the companion of his bosom, nor have her buried where her 
grave might be exposed to the intrusion of strangers. He 
cherished those sentiments of regard for the sainted dead of 
which all the good are conscious, and of the existence of 
which they give pleasing evidence in their care to beautify 
the tombs of their departed. 

Jacob, in the closing scenes of his life, also gives us a 
touching exhibition of the yearnings of his being for the dust 
of his kindred. Although he had experienced many distin- 
guished mercies in the land of Egypt, and the honorable 
position of his son Joseph would have secured for him a 
royal intombment in that country, yet did he earnestly desire 
that his body might repose with his friends, and his dust 
mingle with theirs. "And he charged them" (his sons) 
" and said unto them, I am to be gathered unto my people ; 
bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of 
Ephron the Hittite : in the cave that is in the field of Mach- 
pelah ; w^hich is before Mamre in the land of Canaan, which 
Abraham bought with the field of Ephron the Hittite, for a 
possession of a burying-place. There they buried Abraham 
and Sarah his wife, there they buried Isaac and Rebecca his 
wife, and there I buried Leah." And this dying request was 
religiously observed ; for we are informed that Joseph with 
the royal sanction, ordered the most imposing funeral obse- 
4* 



42 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

quies for his father. A large multitude, composed of 
Hebrews and Egyptians, accompanied the remains to Canaan, 
where they buried Jacob amid great lamentation and mourn- 
ing. And the same intense desire to repose with his fathers 
in that hallowed spot manifested itself in Joseph during his 
last moments. '' And Joseph said unto his brethren, I die, 
and God will surely visit you, and bring you out of this land 
unto the land which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to 
Jacob. And Joseph took an oath of the children of Israel, 
saying God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my 
bones from hence." 

That the people of God attached a very high degree of 
sacredness to the sepulchre, may also be gathered from the 
importance which they ascribed to an honorable burial. To 
be deprived of this they viewed as one of the most distressing 
calamities that could befall them. There is an affecting 
instance of this kind mentioned in II. Sam. xxi. 9-14. The 
sons of Rizpah had been delivered to the Gibeonites, who 
slew them, and exposed their bodies. The mother of these 
unfortunate persons '^ took sackcloth, and spread it upon a 
rock from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon 
them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the air 
to rest upon them by day, nor the beasts of the field by 
night." And when it was told to David, he ordered their 
remains to be gathered up and decently interred. In this 
touching incident we see the regard which a mother had for 
the bodies of her sons. And there is not that mother living, 
if she be worthy of that holy name, who w^ould not, under 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 43 

like circumstances, sit down and watch the remains of those 
whom she loved until relieved from her office by death. 
And a similar abhorrence of being exposed to insult, or 
devoured by the fowls of heaven, or the beasts of the field, is 
expressed by Solomon, when he says, ''If a man live many 
years and be not filled with good, and also have no burial, I 
say that an untimely birth is better than he." In the seventy- 
ninth Psalm, the treatment of the dead on the part of the 
heathen is thus deplored. " The dead bodies of thy saints 
have they given to be meat unto the fowls of heaven, the 
flesh of thy saints unto the beasts of the earth. Their blood 
have they shed round about Jerusalem, and there was none 
to bury them." A like feeling prevailed among other nations 
on this subject. The Egyptians carefully embalmed their 
friends, and, after suitable preparations for interment, they 
used the precaution to place them where they might remain 
undisturbed. And such care marked their disposition of the 
dead, that but for the restless and inquisitive antiquarian, 
they would have slumbered on unmolested in their silent 
mansions until the dawn of the resurrection morn. And it is 
a w^ell-established fact, that all nations deplore the fate of 
those to whom the right of sepulture is denied. A distin- 
guished writer on the Antiquities of Egypt says, that among 
that ancient people there was a regularly organized court, 
before which the character of the deceased person w^as 
examined prior to his burial. If he had not lived in accord- 
ance with established rules burial was denied, and he was 
cast into a pool. If, however, the constituted authorities 



44 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

pronounced a favourable judgment upon his character, an 
honorable disposition of his body was ordered. And those 
cases where interment was not allowed produced the most 
painful distress among survivors ! And this instinctive dread 
of being left without burial is common to all. With what 
imploring looks does the emigrant mother beg of the captain 
of the vessel, that he might spare her child's body until they 
touch at some friendly shore where it may be committed to 
the earth ! 

Another proof of the sacredness of the sepulchre may be 
drawn from the universal regard with which it is cherished. 
Wherever we meet with allusions to the grave, whether in 
sacred or profane history, there is invariably associated with 
it a high degree of sanctity. And not only is it manifest 
in the records of nations that they regarded the tomb as 
something inviolable, but they have also shown a uniform 
respect for the sepulchre by the care which they bestow upon 
it. A traveller, in speaking of Eastern sepulchres, remarks : 
^'If we except a few persons who are buried within the 
precincts of some sanctuary, the rest are carried out at a 
small distance from their cities and villages, where a great 
extent of ground is allotted for that purpose. Each family 
has a particular portion of it walled in like a garden, w^here 
the bones of their ancestors have remained undisturbed for 
many generations ; for in these enclosures the graves are all 
distinct and separate, having each of them a stone placed 
upright, both at the head and feet, inscribed with the name 
of the person who lies there interred ; whilst the intermediate 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 45 

space is either planted with flowers, or paved all over with 
tiles." Mr. Buckingham, another traveller, says, "Not far 
from the spot where we halted to enjoy this enchanting view, 
was an extensive cemetery, at which we noticed the custom 
so prevalent among Eastern nations, of visiting the tombs of 
their deceased friends. These were formed with great care, 
and finished with extraordinary neatness ; and at the foot of 
each grave was enclosed a small earthen vessel, in which was 
planted a sprig of myrtle, regularly watered every day by the 
mourning friend who visited it. Throughout the whole of 
this extensive place of burial we did not observe a single 
grave to which this token of respect and sorrow was not 
attached; and scattered among the tombs, in different 
quarters of the cemetery, we saw from twenty to thirty 
females, sitting near the honored remains of some recently 
lost and deeply- regretted relative or friend, and either water- 
ing the myrtle plants, or strewing flowers over the green turf 
that closed upon their heads." 

In the book of Nehemiah, there is an interesting account 
of an interview which took place between that Jew and 
Artaxerxes, which illustrates th^ regard these representatives 
of two nations exhibited for the sacredness of the grave. 
Nehemiah was the son of one of the captives in Babylon, and 
although born and reared in that country, he cherished that 
love for the Holy Land which is common to every Jew. 
Doubtless all that was glowing in the histoiy of God's chosen 
people was communicated to him in childhood, and it is 
therefore not singular that his heart should burn with patriotic 



46 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

love. Having heard from some who had come from Pales- 
tine, of the privations and sufferings to which those were 
subjected, who had gone there to rebuild Jerusalem, and also, 
of the desecration of the tombs of the Prophets and Kings of 
Judah, he gave himself to earnest prayer, and besought God 
to make him instrumental in the deliverance of his brethren, 
and in the restoration of the Holy Land. His appearance 
before the king is best described in his own pathetic narrative. 
^^And it came to pass in the month of Nisan in the twen- 
tieth year of Artaxerxes the king, that wine was before him, 
and I took up the wine and gave it unto the king. Now I 
had not been beforetime sad in his presence : wherefore the 
king said unto me, why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou 
art not sick ? this is nothing else but sorrow of heart ! Then 
I was very sore afraid, and said let the king live forever ; 
why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the 
place of my father's sepulchres, lieth waste ? " There could 
not be a more delicate, yet profound expression of his reve- 
rence for the graves of his fathers. He makes no mention of 
the desolations of the city, only in so far as they related to 
the condition of the sepulchres of his kindred. He does 
not picture the departed glory of Jerusalem, he says nothing 
of her broken-down walls, her fallen palaces, her temple in 
ruins, only so far as these have affected those sacred enclosures 
which contained the dust of her illustrious dead. There was 
no eye to watch, no hand to adorn, and no arm to defend 
the tombs of the Prophets. There is not an incident in the 
history of this distinguished man, which sheds a brighter 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 47 

glow over his eventful life. His noble spirit had borne up 
under the varied and weighty calamities which had cast their 
dark shadows over the Holy Land, or emptied their woes 
upon the chosen nation. He had become reconciled to all 
the humiliations incident to his own condition, and endured 
his servitude with cheerfulness ; but the intelligence of these 
profaned sepulchres brought such a settled sorrow upon his 
heart, that, even to the eye of a stranger, it was painfully 
mirrored upon his countenance, and awakened the solicitude 
of the Persian monarch. 

Before we conclude our examination of this subject, it may 
be important to consult the views and practices of the primi- 
tive Christians in relation to the departed and the places of 
their repose. Christianity in its influence does not suppress, 
but rather exalt and ennoble the feelings of human nature. 
Its grand aim is to build up, not to destroy ; to correct, to 
chasten, and to purify the tendencies of our nature, and not 
to make us stoically indifferent when the tender relations of 
life are sundered by death. '' From the first," says Neander, 
^' Christianity condemned the wild, and at the same time 
hypocritical expressions of grief with which the funeral 
procession was accompanied ; those wailings of women who 
had been hired for the occasion : yet it required no stoic 
resignation and apathy, but mitigated and refined the 
anguish of sorrow by the spirit of faith and hope, and of 
child-like resignation to that eternal love, which takes, in 
order to restore what it has taken under a more glorious 
form ; which separates for the moment, in order to re-unite 



48 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

the separated in a glorified state through eternity." '*'We 
ought not to mourn," says Cyprian, '^for those who are 
delivered from the world by the call of the Lord, since w^e 
know they are not lost, but sent before us." " They live 
with God!" "There await us a multitude of those whom 
w^e love, fathers, mothers, brothers, and children, who have 
secured already their own salvation, and are concerned only 
for ours." But while they were thus comforted by the hopes 
and promises of the gospel, these very consolations gave 
origin to the custom, which required that the memory of 
departed friends should be celebrated by their relations, on 
the anniversary of their death, in a manner conformable to the 
spirit and hope of religion. On th.ese festival occasions the 
Lord's Supper was administered, and was intended to convey 
the idea "of their inseparable fellowship with those who had 
died in the Lord." For the same reason did they deposit gifts 
on the altar in the name of their departed, because they were 
still "living members of the church." Besides these more 
private or family celebrations of the memory of those who 
had been called to the church triumphant, whole communi- 
ties joined in commemorating the death of martyrs. "The 
anniversary of the death of such individuals was looked upon 
as their birth-day to a nobler existence." " On each return- 
ing anniversary of their birth-day (in the sense which has 
been explained), the people gathered around their graves, 
where the story was rehearsed of their confession and suffer- 
ings, and the communion w^as celebrated in the consciousness 
of a continued fellowship with them, now that they were 



THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 49 

united with him for whom, by their sufferings they had 
witnessed a good confession." This custom among the 
early Christians was not only innocent and beautiful, but 
eminently fitted to promote spiritual edification, to strengthen 
their faith, and to inspire the Hving with fortitude to live, to 
suffer, and to die for Christ. That it was afterwards per- 
verted and made to minister to superstition cannot be denied ; 
but whatever subsequent abuses may have grown out of it, 
these could not vitiate the original excellence and beauty of 
the principle. 

The pious solicituae manifested in the times of persecution, 
by the followers of the Redeemer, to rescue the mutilated 
remains of their martyred brethren from the contumely and 
insults of the Pagans, and the care with which they attended 
to the interment of such fragments of their bodies as they 
could obtain, attest the respect which they cherished for the 
dead, and their veneration for the rights of sepulture. They 
regarded the body of the Christian as the sanctified organ 
of the soul, and were therefore not only solicitous to provide 
for it a place of repose, but sacredly cherished the grave, 
from which it was one day to arise in its glorified form. 

In the History of the Church, by Eusebius, lib. iv. ch. 15, 
there is recorded a letter from the church of Smyrna, giving 
an account of the martyrdom of Polycarp, their bishop, in 
which they reply to the heathens, who refused to give up the 
remains of the martyr '' lest the Christians should abandon the 
crucified and begin to worship him,'^^ The church writes — 
" our envious and malignant adversary, that wicked enemy 
5 



60 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

of all the righteous, seeing the lustre of his raartyrdom, had 
provided that not even his corpse could be obtained by us, 
though many of us eagerly wished it, so as to have commu- 
nion with the sacred body. It was suggested that we would 
desert our crucified master, and begin to worship Polycarp. 
Foolish men ! They know not, that we can neither forsake 
that Christ who has suffered for the salvation of all men, nor 
worship another. Him we adore as the Son of God ; but the 
martyrs w^e love as they deserved for their unconquerable 
love to their king and master, and because we also wish to 
become their companions and disciples. The centurion 
therefore caused the body to be burned ; we then gathered 
his bones, more precious than pearls and more tried than 
gold, and buried them. In this place, God willing, we will 
meet in joy and gladness and celebrate the birth-day of his 
martyrdom, in remembrance of the departed champion, and 
for the purpose of exercising and arming those w^hom the 
conflict is still waiting." Here then we have the reason 
why they manifested such a commendable anxiety to possess 
the bodies of those who fell victims to the spirit of persecution : 
it was, that they might commune with each other and with 
the departed, around their holy sepulchres. 

But they also exhibited their regard for the dead and their 
reverence for the grave, by erecting suitable memorials in 
honor of those w^hom they loved. They constructed monu- 
ments of the most costly and durable materials, and inscribed 
upon these the virtues of the deceased. Their cemeteries 
were prepared with great care, and sacredly guarded against 
profane intrusions. 



THE SACREDXESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 51 

" The Christians called their burial-places Koi/xyinipta, dormi- 
tories, because death, in the light of the Gospel, is a sleep. 
These dormitories, as we here see, were frequented by the 
Christians, as peculiarily calculated to cherish religious senti- 
ments, particularly if these places had been the depositories 
of martyred confessors. It was here, too, where, in the firm 
faith that death is but a sleep, they could hold a kind of com- 
munion w^ith departed virtue, and find their own strengthened 
by it. Well may Christianity be pronounced the only true 
philosophy, when she arrays our greatest terrors in such a 
light." — Euseb. lib. vii., chap. xiii. 

Many of these were constructed underneath the surface 
of the earth; and, no doubt, with a view to afford the perse- 
cuted disciples of our Lord a safe retreat, where they might 
worship Him unmolested. In after years of quiet and victory 
over their enemies, they sometimes erected churches over 
the graves of distinguished saints. 

We have, therefore, the ample and conclusive testimony 
of sacred and profane history to sustain the sacredness of the 
sepulchre. And shattered and vitiated as our humanity is, 
it still claims as one of its jewels reverence for the tombs of 
our departed. And although some may raise the cry of 
superstition and man-worship, w^here nothing more is 
intended than merited respect, we regard the feeling which 
invests the abodes of the dead w4th sanctity, as one of 
exceeding beauty and worth. The absence of such a senti- 
ment in man must greatly detract from his character, and 
is almost demonstrative proof that he is a stranger to those 



52 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 

heavenly inspirations with which the religion of Jesus 
peoples the human heart. It is not possible that any exalted 
and noble feelings should live w^here there is no respect for 
the grave. Even those who make no pretensions to piety, 
and are therefore destitute of those finer sensibilities w^hich 
are the offspring of high moral culture, linger fondly and 
mournfully around some ancient ruins, and utter most 
pathetic and deeply-moving sentiments. And if the ashes 
of the cities of antiquity can kindle such subhme emotions in 
the bosom of man, should not the mouldering dust of the 
human form, once divine, glow under our contemplations 
wath the fires of immortality ? Aye, we do feel, and we 
could not wish to feel otherwise, that the enclosures w^here 
the departed repose are holy ground. The instincts of 
nature, and the religion of Jesus, who sanctified the sepul- 
chre with his ow^n immaculate body, bid us cherish the 
graves of the sainted as holy shrines. Venerable mansions 
of our departed! we will place some mark of affection upon 
you. And if w^e can bring no other offering, we will plant a 
flow^er or shrub, and water it wdth our tears, that some 
emblem of life and immortality may remind the passer-by of 
the glory of that day when the hand of the great Redeemer 
shall rebuild these fallen temples of the Holy Ghost. 



CHAPTER THIRD. 



VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES OF OUR DEPARTED. 



' Oft let me range the gloomy aisles along, 
Sad luxury ! to vulgar minds unknown, 
Along the tombs where speaking marbles show 
What worthies form the hallo^'d mould below ; 
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held, 
In arms who triumph'd, or in arts excell'd ; 
Chiefs grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood. 
Stern patriots who for sacred freedom stood ; 
Just men by whom impartial laws were given. 
And saints who taught and led the way to heaven." 



Visits to the places where our departed repose are 
prompted by the instincts of humanity, and the suggestions 
of love. They have been withdrawn from those circles 
which their presence made glad. Their voice mingles no 
more in the hymn of praise Avhich rises around the family 
altar; they are not of the number who meet around the 
cheerful hearth ; and in their retirement they claim from us 
an occasional visit to their graves. The remotest period in 
my history to which memory points, is when about five years 
of age. I was alone on the green lawn that stretches out 
before the home of my childhood, calling my sainted mother, 
and wondering why she did not answer my call, and hasten 
5 * (53) 



54 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

to my side. And were it permitted, would she not have- 
withdrawn herself from her angel companions, and winged 
her flight to the presence of her lonely child ? Yea, I know 
not but that she was present with me, and her sweet spirit 
may have held my thoughts in communion with her. It is a 
beautiful and consoling thought, and one certainly not in con- 
flict with, but rather encouraged by, the teachings of inspira- 
tion, that we have our guardian angels to accompany us on 
our pilgrimage through life ; to minister to us in a way we 
know not ; yet defending us from the assaults of the tempter, 
and bearing us safely through the dangers which encompass 
the road in which we travel. God promised to Israel that, 
His angel should guide and guard them through all their 
wanderings. " Behold, I send an angel before thee, to 
keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place 
which I have prepared." '^ The angel of the Lord en- 
campeth round about those who fear him." '' He shall give 
his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. 
They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy 
foot against a stone." " Are they not all ministering spirits 
sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation ? " And by 
whom, among the armies of those spirits around Jehovah's 
throne, would the office to guide and guard us be more fondly 
accepted and more faithfully executed, than by those w^ho 
are removed from us, but who still love us ? 

The doctrine concerning guardian angels, though perhaps 
not as clearly revealed as many others, yet has its foundation 
in that universality of belief, which clothes any dogma with 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 55 

something of a divine sanction. It may be regarded as 
belonging to that class of truths, which enter into all creeds, 
because they have never been questioned, but always received 
the cheerful assent of the hearts and minds of all men. The 
Jews firmly believed that it was the prerogative of each one 
to be accompanied by an angel, whose office was to shield 
them from those destructive influences, physical and moral, by 
which they were surrounded. And the belief in guardian 
angels is equally general among Christians. And if the idea 
were even imaginary, and possessed nothing real in itself, it 
would still be well to cherish the belief for the sake of the 
influence which this persuasion exerts upon the mind. For 
by a law of our nature, as powerful as it is sure in its opera- 
tions, man becomes gradually identified with the feelings 
and sentiments of his companions, until he is altogether 
assimilated to their character. If we are continually asso- 
ciated with persons whose minds are cultivated, and whose 
characters are adorned with lofty virtues ; we will perhaps 
imperceptibly, yet steadily, rise to that intellectual and moral 
elevation which they occupy, and ultimately be conscious of 
a perfect harmony of sentiment, of taste and disposition with 
those who have attracted and moulded our spirits into the 
image of their own. And in view of those results which the 
law of intercourse invariably produces, the persuasion of 
attendant spirits will necessarily exert an elevating and 
purifying influence upon us. Our intellectual and moral 
exercises will partake of that dignity and sanctity which are 
peculiar to those of angelic beings. And if to this we add, 



56 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

the consideration that, among those invisible ministers com- 
missioned to guard us, there is one ^vhom we fondly cherish ; 
a father, a mother, a companion, or brother, or sister, or 
child, moving with us through this busy and bustling w^orld ; 
hovering about our path by sea or by land, by night and by 
day, in public and in private, a spectator of all our actions, 
and a witness of all our ways ; will not this conviction be a 
sleepless prompter to virtue, and a constant monitor to warn 
us against vice ? Will not the conscious presence of our 
sainted one bind in strong fetters our evil propensities, and 
thus save us from sin ? Will not the felt nearness of some 
such beloved spirit animate us in every good w^ork, and 
make us strong in every conflict? Will it not give us 
fortitude in trials, patience in suffering, hope amid dark 
calamities, lift our aspirations to heaven, and bear our w^hole 
spiritual being, as on eagle wings, onward to the bosom of 
God? O, if we cherish a realizing sense of the presence of 
these holy ones, w^e cannot willingly commit sin! We 
cannot tear from our hearts and trample in the dust those 
lessons of instruction, which their example in life and their 
hope in death engraved upon our minds. 

But, it may be asked, what bearing have these considera- 
tions upon the subject which constitutes the basis of this 
chapter? and in reply to this question, I need only remark, 
that if we believe our departed to be occupied in unremitted 
watchings and ministrations for our good, would not this 
conviction place us under solemn obligations to manifest our 
gratitude and love for them, by frequent visits to those sacred 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 57 

retreats where their bodies slumber ? And if the spirits of 
our sainted are cognizant of our actions, and if any earthly- 
transaction can heighten those raptures that are ever flowing 
through the channels of their glorified being, it might be 
presumed that such visits to their graves would have this 
effect. For the existence of a pious remembrance of the 
departed, amid the mutations and excitements of earth, where 
wave after wave sweeps violently across the mind, and 
obliterates or displaces by new ones, impressions which 
former events had made, w^ould afford them the pleasing 
indication that its possessor is not lost in the w^hirl of earthly 
pursuits, and utterly forgetful of heaven and those w4io have 
gone there. But apart from all considerations of pleasure 
which it might afford to the sainted, there are many substan- 
tial reasons which might be urged upon the living to induce 
them frequently to visit the city of the dead. 

Such visits are appropriate and beautiful. They are 
suggested by the tenderest feelings of our nature, and 
sanctioned by the examples of the great and good. Every 
true but wounded heart echoes to its partners in' sorrow 
the invitation, 

*'Come unto the church-yard near, 
Where the gentle -whispering breeze 
Softly rustleth through the trees; 
Where the moonbeam pure and white, 
Falls in floods of cloudless light, 
Bathing many a turfy heap 
Where the lowlier slumberers sleep ; 
And the graceful willow waves, 
Banner-like, o'er nameless graves : 



58 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

Here hath prayer arisen like dew, — 
Here the eartli is holy, too ; 
Lightly press each grassy mound ; 
Surely this is hallowed ground." 

There is something exceedingly attractive in the place, 
which constrains the visitor to linger long and pleasantly 
about it. 

But it is by these visitations to their tombs that we show 
becoming respect to departed friends. They cannot come 
to us, but we may go and linger around their ashes. And 
it is surely a very appropriate way in which we may express 
our regard for them. . And to this are we also strongly 
inclined by that undying affection which will forever bind us 
ifl holy union with kindred spirits. Such visits are, therefore, 
not to be regarded as dictated by an idle custom, nor the 
offspring of an affected sorrow ; for in this we act from a 
common impulse, the force of which all must acknowledge 
who have tasted the cup of bereavement. And not only 
are Christians conscious of this inward yearning for the dust 
of beloved ones, but those also who are destitute of the 
Christian's hope find themselves irresistibly drawn to those 
places where their kindred repose. Account for it as w^e 
may, the voice of Nature is stern and peremptory in its 
demands in this respect ; so that if it cannot move the body, 
it will command the soul on such visits. It is one of those 
mysteries the force of which we feel, but the nature of which 
w^e cannot fully explain. Our feelings, after a few changes 
in life, will become more or less localized. And we dis- 
cover that there are some places and some objects which they 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 69 

will seek, as the volatilized steel seeks the magnet, and 
around which they will as firmly cluster. And such localities 
and such objects are enshrined in our memories, because 
consecrated by our affections and baptized with our tears. 
Thus are our hearts bound by a viewless chain to the dust 
of dear departed ones ; and if, perchance, the pressure of 
some w^orldly duty, or the attraction of some social interest 
divert the thoughts and cause the heart for a moment to for- 
get its treasure, it will turn to it again as truly as the needle 
turns to the pole, after those disturbing influences are 
withdrawn. Our nature yearns towards the sepulchres of 
our departed, as though a part of our own being were laid 
there. If, therefore, we would not do violence to the laws 
of our own being, and war against one of the holiest 
impulses of our nature, we cannot be wanting in those offices 
which it is still in the power of the living to render to the 
dead. Go, then, thou bereaved one, as often as circum- 
stances will permit, to that little grass-grown mound, or to 
that larger grave — go, visit the hallowed spot consecrated by 
the ashes of thy kindred. It will amply compensate you for 
your trouble ; for it w^ill feed the flame of that pure love 
which unites you to that far-off one who made your past life 
beautiful with blessing, and who may fill your future with large 
and glorious good. 

But the influence which such visits exert upon the mind 
and heart may also be urged as a motive for occasionally 
repairing to the silent abodes of the dead. C}^rian, in 
speaking of the early Christians, says, " that in seasons of 



60 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

persecution they were accustomed to resort to the sepulchres 
of their martyred brethren for prayer and meditation ; and 
that they returned from these more resolute and courageous, 
and even wilHng to endure the most violent death for the 
cause of their Master." And the influence which is exerted 
upon the mind by the graves of the pious dead is always 
beneficial. These mansions are eminently suggestive; and 
there is much about the entire scene of a grave-yard which is 
fitted to detach us from earth, and bind us to heaven. It is 
a place where the thoughtful may gather gems for their 
crown of glory. 

" Through these branched walks will contemplation wind, 
And grave wise Nature's teachings on his nfind ; 
As the white grave-stones glimmer to his eye, 
A solemn voice will thrill him, * Thou must die !* 
When Autumn's tints are glittering in the air, 
^That voice will whisper to his soul, * Prepare !' 
When Winter's snows are spread o'er hill and dell, 

* 0, this is death !' that solemn voice will swell ; 

But when with Spring streams leap and blossoms wave, 

* Hope, Christian, hope,' 'twill say, ^ there's life beyond the 

grave ! ' " 

Aye, these inclosures will give birth to thoughts whose 
mighty sweep will embrace all that is real and noble in time, 
and all that is great and giowmg in eternity. 

Is it the tomb of an honored parent that we visit ; one 
who gave us existence and cherished us in our feeble infancy? 
O, w^hat memories of holy love, of pious mstructions, of 
affectionate endearments, come thronging round the soul, like 
bright spirits ! The records of memory will glow as if newly 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 61 

written in letters of light. Is it the grave of a beloved mother 
where we stand? My mother! 0, what a world of thought, 
what an ocean of bliss there is in this holy word ! Yes, 
here sleeps my mother. She who forgot the anguish of her 
soul in her joy that I was born. She whose eyes were held 
waking over my infancy, when all others slumbered but the 
eye above. She whose love rendered her perceptions so 
keen and far-sighted, that she perceived and guarded me 
against dangers while they were yet distant. She who quieted 
my feeble cries on her gentle bosom. She who first bent 
over me in devout supplications, and taught me the music 
of Jesus' name. She whose last words were words of bless- 
ing, and whose spirit, as it rose from that couch of suffer- 
ing to eternal mansions, shook from its wings the incense of 
prayer upon my head. Blessed holy one, who lived in her 
child. Rejoiced when I was happy ; was in anguish when I 
was pained. The first to know and to relieve my sorrow^s. 
The first to be interested in my childish prattle, and to guide 
my tottering footsteps. Dear departed one! shall I not here 
recall thy watchful care and thy unwearied love, and thank 
the Good Being who gave me such a treasure in thee? Such 
thoughts and feelings are fitting at such a place where a 
mother sleeps, and becoming those who can appreciate a 
mother's aflfection. For who that has enjoyed her care and 
received her instruction may not breathe out his soul in senti- 
ments such as shine in the poem of Cowper, on the receipt 
of his mother's portrait? Who would not join a living 
author, in his tribute to maternal worth ? — 
6 



62 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

*' My Mother! manhood's anxious brow 

And sterner cares have long been mine ; 
Yet turn I to thee fondly now, 

As when upon thy bosom's shrine 
My infant griefs were gently hush'd to rest, 

And thy low-whisper'd prayers my slumber blest. 
I've por'd o'er many a yellow page 

Of ancient wisdom, and have won, 
Perchance, a scholar's name — but sage 

Or bard have never taught thy son 
Lessons so dear, so fraught with holy truth, 
As those his mother's faith shed on his youth." 

But perhaps some of my readers may have had the mis* 
fortune, like the writer of these pages, to lose their mother 
before they could know her or appreciate her worth. And 
O, what reflections are those of which w^e are conscious at 
her tomb ! If we could but recall her image, or the accents 
of her voice, or the thrilling touch of a mother's caresses ! 
Alas ! all this is denied to some, and there is nothing left to 
tell them how she looked ; for there were few pencils then 
employed to transfer the image of the living upon the 
canvass, and the sunbeam had not then learned to engrave 
likenesses upon the polished plate. Did I say there was 
nothing left to assist the imagination in the creation of her 
image? 0, yes, every virtue which brightens our character 
was warmed into life by her love. For, although the seeds 
of those virtues which adorn our characters are divine, because 
they came from heaven, yet were they planted by a mother's 
hand and watered by a mother's tears ; and they have 
matured in our lives, because the eye of a covenant-keeping 
God rested upon her prayers as chronicled in His book. O, 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 63 

my beloved, my sainted mother! Though I never looked 
upon thy face to know thee ; though not conscious at the 
time that it was the music of thy throbbing heart that lulled 
me into peaceful slumbers; though unknown to the sense 
of sight, my spirit knows thee, and no human heart has ever 
thrilled with a holier love than mine for thee ! Yet again 
shall I be folded in thine embrace ; for thy tomb reminds me- 
that I am mortal, and thy prayers have prevailed with God, 
for thy son is on his pilgrimage to Zion ; and, w^hen weary 
and wayworn on my journey, the thought that I shall know 
thee in heaven as my mother animates me with new strength, 
and I press onwards to thy blessed home on high. 

And thus, also, may we linger with profit around the grave 
which contains the ashes of an honored father. For, " he 
being dead yet speaketh." Although death has silenced his 
tongue, and hushed the pulsations of that noble heart which 
beat in unison with the will of heaven, he still lives ! He 
lives in that legacy of good principles, and in the force of 
that unsulhed example, which he bequeathed to his family. 
No tongue of malice can taunt us with any gross imperfections 
in his life ; for his character was transmitted to his posterity 
untarnished and without a flaw, and will forever sparkle as a 
brilliant gem in the crown of his children's glory. He aimed 
to impress upon the hearts of his offspring lessons of virtue, 
and to write in their minds laws of purity and love. It was 
his purpose to send them out into the world as transcripts 
of his own character, jeweled with many and lofty virtues. 
Such a father's principles are immortal, and will, by theii 



64 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

mysterious but potent influence, continue to mould society 
for generations to come. Enshrined in the affections of those 
to whom he gave existence, these principles will be incorpo- 
rated in their lives and perpetuated by their children, and 
wall form a part of that moral power which is to regenerate 
mankind and illumine the world until time and eternity 
blend. The good never die ! Their names are linked with 
virtue, and virtue is imperishable ! As the vessel w^hich 
glides through the ocean raises weaves that will break upon 
the farthest shore, so the passage of a good man through this 
world will wake influences which wifl live through all time, 
and, passing on into the spirit land, will vibrate in the 
raptures of the redeemed while the music of eternity lasts. 
All that we have loved in a father we will recall at his grave, 
and lessons long forgotten will rise up in all their beauty and 
potency, to command our souls and to control our lives. 
Every visitation to his tomb will strengthen the purpose, and 
furnish fresh incentives, to walk in the footsteps of him 
whose "hoary head was a crown of glory, because it was 
found in the way of righteousness." 

But it may be a companion to w^hom w^e are called to pay 
these sad offices! A husband and father cut down in the 
midst of life, at a period when it appeared most important 
that he should live; a youthful and interesting family was 
budding around him ; he had overcome those incipient 
struggles which are incident to every vocation in life, and 
had reached that degree of prosperity which enabled him to 
devote much of his time to the improvement of his children. 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 65 

Bat while the sky was bright, and sunshine dwelt upon that 
circle of devoted hearts, suddenly did the bolt of the 
destroyer fall and blight that Eden. The stay and support of 
dependent ones is shattered — '' the strong staff and the beau- 
tiful rod is broken." And now, from that home which death 
has desolated, there issues a wail of wo ! The cries of widowed 
love and helpless orphanage come up to our ears — ''Have 
pity upon us, have pity upon us, 0, our friends ; for the hand 
of the Lord hath touched us." And yet is it well for that 
inconsolable w^idow, w^hose w^ounds are kept fresh and bleed- 
ing by the innocent inquiries of her little ones concerning 
their beloved father, to come forth from her secret weepings 
and her home of sadness, and repair to the grave which holds 
her heart's treasure. For there may she be reminded how the 
^' Rod of Jesse was once bruised and laid in the sepulchre," 
where it budded and blossomed, and so became a staff, able 
to support those who trust to it for comfort. And while her 
tears water the springing grass upon the new grave she hears 
words of hope and consolation descending from the throne 
of heaven — '' Leave thy fatherless children with me ; I will 
preserve them ; and let thy widows trust in me, saith the 
Lord," For, ''He is a father unto the fatherless and a 
husband unto the widow\" And as she looks out upon the 
landscape and up to the out-spread heavens, and sees that 
the Divine protection encircles and sustains all things, from 
the ponderous world to the little atom, and from the tall 
archangel to that worm which performs its evolutions in the 
dust at her feet, her faith gathers strength, and light springs 
6* 



66 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

up in her darkness, and, with a confiding spirit, she commits 
herself and her children to the guardianship of that Almighty 
being, in the strength of whose arm and in the love of whose 
heart none have ever yet trusted in vain. 

Or is it the grave of a devoted wife and faithful mother 
that a surviving partner is to visit? What can be more 
consoling, than occasionally to linger around the hallowed 
scene where the cherished one reposes ? He there feels a 
nearness to her which he cannot realize any where else ; 
and he experiences a mournful pleasure while strewing her 
tomb with fragrant and frail memorials of her beauty and 
love. And is not that the most appropriate place to rehearse 
her virtues in the presence of his children, and there to 
admonish them to practise those lessons with which she 
stored their minds ? The loss of a cherished wife and beloved 
mother occasions a deep and wdde-spread disaster. '' In 
comparison with the loss of a wife all other earthly bereave- 
ments are trifling. The wife ! she who fills so large a space 
in the domestic heaven — she who is so busied — so un- 
w^earied in laboring for the precious ones around her — bitter, 
bitter is the tear that falls on her cold clay. You think of 
her now, as all gentleness, all beauty and purity. The dear 
head that laid upon your bosom rests in the still darkness 
upon a pillow of clay ! The hands that have administered 
so untiringly are folded, white and cold, beneath the gloomy 
portals ! The heart w^hose every beat measured an eternity 
of love lies under your feet ! The flowers she bent over 
with smiles bend now above her with tears, shaking the 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 67 

dew from their petals, that the verdure around her may be 
kept green and beautiful." And 0, how will those hours of 
past endearments rise radiant with their memories, and the 
images of her beauty, her gentleness, and love, start up like 
troops of angels from her sepulchre ! And in recounting the 
excellencies which were embodied in the character of such a 
loved one, the sainted seems present, and we almost fancy 
that she participates in our sadness. 

And if it be a child that we deplore, then have we com- 
panions in our sorrow, and visits to its grave will afford us 
occasions for mutual improvement. And here w^e touch a 
chord which sends its vibrations through many hearts, for 
who has not lost a child ? What flock has not yielded up 
one, and that perhaps the first-born lamb, to the fold of the 
good Shepherd ? There are few families where there is not 
one chair vacant, one link in the family chain broken ; and 
what can be more soothing to anguished hearts than visits 
to their little graves ? — perhaps it is the first one of the family 
who has gone to the " house appointed for all the living ;" so 
that a voice seems to call from its ashes not to forget it in 
its loneliness. And what an array of little incidents con- 
nected wdth their brief existence rise up before the mind 
while we stand by that little mound. We recall not only all 
that was pleasant in their life, but all that we experienced in 
that sad hour when their wasted arms encircled our neck for 
the last time, and all that we felt when we saw the coflSn 
descending into the deep grave. Around that sacred spot 
do our affections still linger. Ah! that little grave, under 



68 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

the shadow of that tree where he had often played — the 
place he loved — there we laid him in our sorrow. But we 
left him not to slumber alone, for we laid our hearts with him 
in the tomb. We had often stood by other little open graves, 
and, as we committed " dust to dust" in the hope of the resur- 
rection, w^e thought happy lambs are these, so early folded, 
and wondered why their peaceful death and happy departure 
to heaven should cause distress. We marvelled that tears 
should flow for those who had fled from the sorrows of earth 
to the bosom of God. But we understood not those tears— 
we knew not the anguish which wrung parental hearts, and 
expressed itself in groans that shook the frame — until we 
laid the snowy form of our own beautiful and gentle 
boy in the grave. 0, then, as ''bone of our bone, and flesh 
of our flesh," w^as committed to the silent mansion, we knew 
and felt it all; yes, all; and we would have deemed it a 
privilege to lie down w^ith him, that our dust might 
have commingled with his. Many fond hopes do parents 
form concerning their offspring; for they are buds of promise, 
w^hich they would see unfold in all their loveliness. And so 
had w^e formed expectations of our boy ; we thought him too 
beautiful to die : but God had a place for him in his cherub 
band, and so He sent a messenger to call him home. Long 
and earnest wTre our vigils and prayers around his couch. 
Anxious to retain him '' we hoped against hope;" but in the 
midnight hour his spirit went up on the wings of a storm, 
that seemed to wail without in sympathy with that tempest 
of sorrow which swept our souls that night. 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 69 

But it is time to return from this circle of reflections, which 
I suffered to enlarge that utterance might be given to all 
hearts, over whatever loved one they might mourn, from the 
hoary-headed sire to the little child. I would, however, 
yet observe, that visits to the tombs of the departed should 
be encouraged, forasmuch as the blessings are many and 
valuable which the bereaved and sorrowful may gather there. 
The sepulchre of a friend will bring with great urgency 
before the mind subjects which cannot be contemplated 
without benefit to the soul. For while those cherished 
places are fruitful in their suggestions of matter for profitable 
meditation and prayer, they clothe these subjects with an 
interest and beauty which they possess nowhere else. They 
aflford us just views of hfe, of death, and immortality, and 
therefore have a tendency to keep the heart free from the 
bondage of this world, and the thoughts associated with the 
realities of a coming eternity. These tombs form connecting 
links betw^een the mortal and the immortal ; they are scenes 
where the interests of the earthly and the heavenly, the things 
of time and eternity, commingle, and where the inhabitants 
of glory seem to meet earth's pilgrims, to inspire them with 
perseverance in their upw^ard toil to a crown of life. But 
perhaps you say, I have the w^ill to obey these suggestions 
here offered, for they are consonant with the inclinations and 
promptings of my nature, but this disposition is not coupled 
with the needed ability; Providence has ordained that my 
beloved should sleep at a distance from my abode ! Far 
beyond the ocean did death meet them, and they now repose 



70 VISITS TO THE SEPULCHRES 

among strangers. In that distant land where, it was thought, 
a mild and equable climate would successfully contend 
with disease and re-establish a shattered constitution, they 
died far from home and friends! Or, in that sunny isle 
whither they fled with a feeble hope of restoration did disease 
hurry them from earth! Or, on their home-bound voyage 
they met death and found a watery grave. Be it even so ; 
I too am Tar removed from the sepulchres of my departed, 
and it is but seldom that I may drop a tear upon their ashes. 
But a merciful Providence has furnished us with the necessary 
ability to carry us in our meditations beyond the ocean, or 
to any spot within the circle of our globe, wherever our 
beloved sank into the lap of earth. And if the privilege of 
visiting in person those consecrated places be denied us, let 
us give wings to our spirits, that we may be carried to the 
scene of their repose ! Let us go in the morning when the 
new day is ushered in on its bright wings, and while our 
minds are fresh and pure from the noisome cares of the 
world ! In the morning, when the spring-flow^ers scent the 
air w^ith their sweetness, and the dew-drops, like showers of 
diamonds, sparkle in the sunbeam, and remind us of the 
glor}' of those '^ w^ho shine as the brightness of the firmament, 
and as the stars for ever and ever!" And let the evening 
hour woo our meditations to the far-off grave, when the 
glorious orb of day is sinking into his bed of gorgeous and 
golden-tinged clouds in the western sky, and the stillness of 
the evening hour reminds us of their peaceful passage, 
in the light of a joyful hope, from this scene of turmoil 



OF OUR DEPARTED. 71 

into the quiet and beautiful home of the blest! At some 
such hour take your position in thought by the graves 
of your cherished ones, and, wherever that spot may be, we 
will stand beside you, and together we will interrogate the 
sepulchre for such lessons as it may be able to impart; 
for it may be that, as it has caused us sorrow, it may also 
give us joy ! and as it has filled our eyes with weeping, it 
may fill our hearts with peace ; for the same soil which 
produces the thorn that wounds us also nourishes the 
flower whose fragrance causes us to forget the pain. For, 
behold ! the sepulchre is no longer that darkly- terrible and 
loathsome receptacle since the hand of the great Redeemer 
has scattered in its mould the seeds of immortality : for he 
" who has brought life and immortality to light " has been 
down in its chambers and illumined its darkness with His 
glory! He has Sanctified the shrines of the dead, and thus 
constituted the grave a peaceful retreat, and the safe abode 
of those who fall asleep in Jesus, where they shall slumber 
on until waked to behold the raptures and glories of Eternal 
Life. 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 

LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 

The lessons which the sepulchre is fitted to teach are 
various, instructive, soothing, and hopeful. They impres- 
sively set forth the momentous interests which cluster around 
life, death, and eternity. He is indeed a dull pupil who 
does not improve under the instructions of such a master. 
For his lessons are connected with all our hopes, enter into 
all our pleasures, and shed a new and solemn aspect over all 
conditions, over all stations, and over all the phases of our 
present existence. They are adapted to all capacities ; those 
necessary and useful are so simple that the comprehension 
of a child masters them — and yet pregnant with the profound- 
est mysteries that have ever baffled the laboring intellect of the 
ripe philosopher. They are fitted to make all learners better 
and wiser. For these instructions kindle hope in the bosoms 
of the good calculated to incite to the attainment of greater 
moral excellence, and cast such dark and deep shadows over 
the profligate soul as should cause it to labor for entrance 
into the light of God's favor. So humbling in their 
influence as to make all ambitious aspirings kiss the dust ; so 
sublime in their tendency as to exalt the thoughts and 
expectations above the stars. August teacher of the nations! 
We venture into thy presence ! We pause in thy shadow ! 

(72) 



LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 73 

We bow at thy awful shrine to hear thy utterances ! Thou 
art a universal teacher, declaring the same truths in all climes, 
in all ages, and in all the tongues of earth. Thou art a 
faithful instructor, neither awed by the pomp of kings nor the 
power of tyrants, nor bribed by gold ; thou declarest the 
same humiliating truths to the loftiest as to the lowliest, to 
the wise and to the ignorant. Thou art an aged and vene- 
rable teacher! Six thousand years have left their wrinkles 
upon thy brow, and the hoar of sixty centuries is upon thy 
locks. The progenitor of our race was thy first pupil ; the 
Patriarchs were thy disciples. The wild and wandering 
hordes of the desert, and the civilized dwellers in ancient 
.cities, the Persians and Medes, the Egyptians and Jews, the 
Grecians and the Romans, were all learners in thy school. 
Thou hast know^n every nation in its varied fortunes and in its 
final history ; for one afl:er another was conducted into thy 
mansions. Thou art acquainted with all men, from the 
exiled lord of Eden to the one who is this moment consigned 
to thy keeping ; for all have become thy guests and subjects 
of thy empire. Awful sage ! we approach thee with deep 
solemnity, but without fear; for the Man of Calvary has 
illumined thy stern countenance with the light of His triumph 
over thy domain — we come, as docile scholars, to hear from 
thy lips the lessons which thou art ready to impart. Thou 
dost speak to the thoughtful of the value of our present ex- 
istence, and its outflows and bearings upon immortality ; but 
especially dost thou teach us, First : — The End of all the 
Living. The inevitable doom of dissolution is upon us, and 
7 



74 LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IIStPARTS. 

all of US shall lie down in the sepulchre to slumber the 
sleep of death. 

** Our lives are rivers gliding free 
To that unfathomed, boundless sea, 

The silent grave ! 
Thither all earthly pomp and boast 
Roll to be swallowed up and lost, 

In one dark wave!" 

It is manifest to all who are given to observation, that the 
Divine Being has been particularly solicitous to impress upon 
the minds of all his rational creatures the fact that they must 
die. And to this end he has so abundantly provided the 
sources of that knowledge which relates to our present life 
and its issues, that none can be ignorant of the last great, 
change which awaits us all. The Lord knew full well that 
man would be liable to forget, not only that he would have to 
meet death, but also that, in the multitude of objects which 
challenge his attention and press upon his consideration, he 
was likely to lose sight of the importance of constant pre- 
paration for this event. That there is such a tendency in all, 
none will presume to question. And, besides the probability 
of having our thoughts exclusively occupied v/ith things seen 
and temporal, there is, also, an unwillingness on the part of 
many to have their enjoyments disturbed, their pleasures 
embittered, and their business trammeled by meditations on 
this subject. And hence, if thoughts of death do arise in 
some minds, they are regarded as unwelcome intruders and 
summarily ejected. Why should I, says one, suffer my 
thoughts to run upon a subject which might render me 



LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 75 

gloomy, and give me a disrelish for business ? Let the aged 
who are trembling under the weight of years ponder the 
solemnities of the grave ! Let those who are stricken with a 
fatal malady be occupied with such reflections as are 
suited to a transition from time to eternity ; but, as for me, I 
have other and more agreeable duties to discharge ; at least 
for the present I will not surrender myself to such exercises 
as might cool my ardor, or moderate my exertions in the 
race with my competitors, for the honor and wealth of this 
world! And it is not singular that thoughts of death are 
unwelcome to him on whose path the golden god has 
scattered his shining dust, and over whose life forbidden 
pleasures shed their enchanting power ; for the glitter of 
earthly prosperity blinds his mind to all that is great and 
glowing in the things of eternity, and the seductive charms 
of a delusive w^orld hold his spirit a willing captive of the 
dust ; so that, while he yields his reluctant assent to the truth 
that there is a time to die, it becomes not one of those 
strong convictions whose influence is heard in the conversa- 
tion and seen in the conduct! And w^hile he is continually 
reminded in the decay around him, that all created objects 
are subject to those laws of mutation whose silent but 
resistless operations are carrying all things to their dissolution, 
he does not allow his soul to be borne on the strong pinions 
of holy aspirations to that world w^here all things remain 
unblighted. The vanishing cloud, luminous with the sunset 
glow, is an emblem of those bright things which melt away 
under his touch; while the fading leaf and the withering 



76 LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 

flower continually announce that ^^ the fashion of this 
world passeth away!" Yes, all things material have their 
beginning, their growth, their maturity, and decay ; from the 
delicate flower which blooms on the bleak and rocky clifl', to 
the brightest luminary in the firmament on high ; from the 
atom that is constantly diminished by the friction of atmos- 
pheric waves, to the granite that yields particle after particle 
to the kissing billow of the deep ; all — all are passing away. 
The pen of history is daily chronicling on her pages the 
names of the great who had filled the world with their fame ! 
So numerous are those who claim the admiration of the 
world, that, with all the dazzle of military renown, or the 
lustre of successful statesmanship, the charms of literature 
and science, and the more durable radiance of unsullied 
virtue — few of the multitude of the great who have passed 
away from among the living receive that homage which they 
deserve. The remembrance of not a few is displaced by 
other illustrious characters who have risen up in their places; 
but how many are daily passing into eternity \vho were never 
known beyond the immediate circle which was the sphere 
of their exertion. As the gentle rains which descend upon 
the ocean never ruffle its bosom nor hush its roar, so there 
are thousands daily departing without producing any percep- 
tible effect upon society! Many remain unknown while 
living and unsung when dead ; yet all men see enough of 
change and death within the circle of their observation, 
limited as it may be, to assure them that here they have no 
abiding city : and their own experience reiterates the lessons 



LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 77 

of their mortality, if they have an eye to see, a mind to 
reflect, and a heart to feel. All have heard, not only from 
the holy word and the dying pillow, but from all objects, 
that ''it is appointed unto man once to die!" All are 
conscious that whatsoever is earthly is hastening towards a 
dissolution, either immediate or remote ; so that it scarcely 
seems necessary to have a monitor, like Philip of Macedon, to 
remind us that we are mortal. For, in all our occupations 
and w^alks, w^e look upon no living thing which is exempt 
from the tremendous necessity of dying. I behold the 
magnificent forest robed in its leafy apparel, the home of 
beasts and birds and millions of insects ; but of all those 
leaves which flutter in the breeze there is not one which is 
not destined to fade ■ — of all those beasts that roam its path- 
less w-ilds — of all the birds that w^arble their morning and 
evening songs through that wilderness, there is not one bird, 
or beast, that must not die. In the sphere of my labors I 
meet thousands of my fellow-creatures with greater or less 
promise of a long and sunny future, but that earthly future 
has a limit. I look over my assembled flock, and, as my eye 
wanders from the hoary-headed pilgrim over those manly 
forms where strong hearts beat, and the current of life flows 
full — and over youth flushed with beauty and health, even 
down to the little child that I have consecrated to God at the 
baptismal font — among these thousands there is not onew^ho 
is not on his w^ay to the sepulchre ; among all the warm 
hands which I have or may yet grasp in friendship there is 
not one that shall not moulder in the tomb — not one counte- 
7* 



78 LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 

nance now animate with life but will be stricken with the 
palor of death — not a voice whose friendly greetings vibrate 
through my soul but will be hushed in the silence of the 
grave — there is not an eye that glows with affection that 
shall not grow dim — not a brow clothed w4th thought but 
shall be shrouded with the shadow of death — and not one 
heart which beats in unison with mine but w^ill one day be 
pulseless. 

What an evil art thou, ! death, when I consider the deso- 
lations which mark thy path! When we think of the Edens 
which thou dost blight, the hopes which thou dost quench, 
the hearts which thou dost still, and the homes which thou 
makest desolate, do we not rightly call thee the great 
destroyer ? Aye, thou art not satisfied with those whom thou 
hast already hurried to thy mansions, for thou hast set thy 
mark upon all the living, aged and young, parent and child 
— all, all must die. 

Yet, notwithstanding this truth is echoed by the moans of 
the dying gale and the expiring gentle breeze; by the closing 
day and the ever-changing aspect of the world ; by the earth 
and the heavens ; there is no place where we realize it so 
well, and with so much profit, as at the sepulchres of our 
departed. More impressive are its instructions on this subject 
than the fall of empires, or the wasting pestilence ; for no- 
where can I feel my own frailty so well as at the grave of my 
friend. I may take my station on the banks of a flowing 
stream, whose waters are hastening with their tribute to the 
sea, and it may teach me the rapidity of Time's restless 



LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 79 

current which is bearing me onward to eternity. I may 
watch the morning vapor as it lazily hangs around the moun- 
tain's side, and see its multiform evolutions as it rises and 
circles around the brow of the highest peak, and then instantly 
vanisheth into thin air, and I behold in its short-lived move- 
ments an emblem of human existence ; for it seems to echo 
the question in its vanishing, " What is your life ? It is 
even as a vapor, w^hich appeareth for a little while and then 
vanisheth away." I may watch the flying clouds ; and their 
shadows, as they glide over the plain, say to me, '^ Man is a 
shadow that continueth not." I bend over the drooping 
flower, and it says, " Man that is born of woman is of few 
days, and full of trouble ; he cometh forth like a flower, and 
is cut down." And a thousand objects around me may utter 
the same lessons ; but they fall not on my heart with that 
tremendous force w^ith which the grave of my departed 
invests them. At the sepulchre of my friend I realize it 
more than anywhere else, that I must die. My friend who 
now slumbers in this tomb lived as I live, hoped as I hope, 
and rejoiced as I rejoice. He was conscious of all those 
emotions, whether pleasurable or painful, w^hich I now expe- 
rience. He formed one of that busy, bustling crowd, as I do 
this day. He was honorably known in the halls of legislation 
— in the court — in the Senate — in the pulpit — in the walks of 
business. He was prominent or humble — but he was a living 
man. Men bowed to him in respectful recognition. His 
name was carried to distant parts on his vessel, or to far-off 
markets on his wares. His opinion was solicited in all great 



80 LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 

public movements; and his judgment quoted in all im- 
portant projects, as they might affect the civil and commercial 
interests of the land. For years it was known through the 
country that he did business on such a street, and at that 
number. Tens of thousands read his name penciled in 
golden letters on the sign. ''But the places that knew him 
shall know him no more." 

Am I the head of a family ? So was he. For years was 
he the strong staff which supported d numerous household. 
A gentle wife greeted him on the evening of each day, for 
many years, on his return from the counting-house, the office, 
the farm, or the shop ; and sons and daughters showered 
upon him their smiles, and delighted him with their affectionate 
caresses. For such a long period did he give permanence 
to the joy and happiness of that domestic circle, that its 
members were scarcely conscious that these blessings 
belonged to the things that were transient. But the fatal day 
came when they w^re roused from their dreams to behold 
that all was vanity. The husband and the father can be so 
no more, for he is stricken with death. 

Do I sometimes join in innocent amusements and pleasures, 
which lure us aside from the monotonous round of duties and 
anxieties, and cause us to forget, for a few hours, the vexa- 
tious cares and annoyances associated with our callings ? He 
allowed himself the same relaxations ; and moved as gaily as 
any within that circle of enchanting scenes and pleasures. 
But in the assemblies where his entrance produced an 
involuntary thrill, and his presence drew a thousand sparkling 



LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 81 

eyes, he is no more seen, and his name is seldom, if ever, 
uttered. He who had an ahnost world-wide fame is now 
only remembered by a few loving hearts. He sleeps in the 
lonely grave ; and but few of those who pass by take time to 
spell out his name upon the dim marble. 

Am I known and loved in the sanctuary of God ? He, 
too, was w^ont to mingle in the devotions of the assemblies 
of saints. For many years his seat was seldom vacant, for 
he was known as a pillar in the church. No interest of the 
congregation did he allow to languish ; no charity that did 
not receive from him a cordial support. He filled the widow's 
heart with music, and dried the tears of the orphan. He 
responded to the call of the perishing, and sent on golden 
wings the news of salvation to the far-off heathen. And 
because he wrought long and well in the vineyard of the 
Lord, he was a pattern of good w^orks. But it w^as only for 
the day of life that the Master had hired him ; and when the 
shades of evening came, he was called up to receive his 
reward. Here at his grave all his life is re-enacted before 
my mind ; and as the drama closes in this tomb, I feel that 
this is the end of man — this the goal of his earthly existence. 

My friend died. He w^ho moved in the same circle in 
w^hich I move, held the same relations to the family and to 
the world which I hold, he is gone to the house appointed for 
all the living. That sun w'hich now shines upon his grave, 
and those stars which now rise upon his lowiy abode — all 
nature — the earth, and the spangled heavens upon w^hich I 
now look, were contemplated and admired by him as I now 



82 LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 

admire them. But here he sleeps, while they roll on and 
shine ; and so, too, shall I slumber underneath the sod, 
while their rays fall silently around my mouldering dust. 

Aye, my departed one once stood with me at this spot, and 
thought and felt as I do now as he looked upon the graves 
of others; but sickness came — death came — and the funeral 
obsequies ; and here now he reposes until waked by the voice 
of the Son of God. Mortal — all are mortal; I will not 
thrust you from my mind, ye thoughts of my frailty, for ye 
are messengers come from heaven's high throne, to assist in 
binding my fleeting life to that which is immutable and 
eternal. I know, I feel, I too must die! True, this world is 
bright and beautiful, and it wearies me not ; health flows 
through my veins and glows in my cheek ; strength nerves 
my arm, and strong are the pulsations of my heart ; my 
business, my family, and the many objects which I wish to 
accomplish, do press and clamor for death's delay; but he, 
the inexorable King of Terror, heeds not their voice, but 
disdains their entreaties. Death is coming; he has been 
approaching me year by year, and day by day. The passing 
hours, and minutes, and seconds, tell me as they fly that he 
is coming nearer. With an eagle's eye he holds me in view, 
and with a lion's heart he follows upon my path ; in the city 
or in the forest, by land or by sea, by night and by day, he 
never falters nor wearies ! ! yes, I feel it as I gaze upon 
yonder setting sun, that I have one day less — and now 
that gorgeous glow upon the mountain top vanishes, and 
dies away in the starlight heavens — yes, one hour less to live, 



LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 83 

since I came to this tomb to commune with the dead. Yes, 
my last sickness will come — my physician will be calm and 
silent, he will breathe no word of hope — my wife and 
children will weep around my bed— and I will see the shadow 
of him who has so long pursued me fall upon my path — and 
I shall feel his skeleton hands clutch my heart-strings, while 
his icy embrace freezes my blood, and the tide of life stands 
still! All still — only the sobs of weeping loved ones wall 
echo through that chamber where I bowled to the bidding of 
death. Cold and insensible shall I lie, while the last vigils 
of friendship shall be kept for the last night that I shall ever 
spend in my long and fondly-cherished home. And the 
morning light of another day w411 break, but I shall not 
welcome the rosy morn. The chirpings of the swallow and 
notes of the robin, that so often waked me to join in their 
song of praise, w^ill not ravish my ears. The beautiful land- 
scape, over which my eyes w^andered with so much delight in 
early morn, wall not be surveyed by me. Friends will gather 
around me, and draw aside the curtains to let in the light 
of day, that they may look upon my face, but I will not know 
it. They will caress and kiss the lifeless form, but my heart 
shall not thrill under the pressure of affection's hand, nor my 
lips throw back the glow of friendship's kiss. No, I shall be 
dead ! They will shroud me for my burial, but I shall not 
behold my white apparel. They will lay me in the coffin, 
and I shall offer no resistance. Many familiar friends will 
gaze upon me there, but I shall not return their look. And 
those whom I most loved will give their last long look, and 



84 LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 

I am shut out from the world in which I lived and moved. 
Gently is the lid laid over my face and screwed fast. Neigh- 
bors and friends are gathered, and I am carried out of my 
house never more to return. Even my name will pass from 
it, and strangers will dwell there. The funeral cortege will 
move away from those ancient trees, and over that familiar 
road to the sepulchres of my fathers. And there they will 
lay me in the grave, as they did my friend by whose tomb 
I write. And the man of God will utter the solemn 
but hopeful words, '' We commit this body to the ground — 
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust — in hope 
of the general resurrection and the life of the world to 
come." 

And, having performed this last sad office, they will return 
to their homes and leave me. I shall be alone in the grave ; 
alone shall I slumber. I shall no more speak. Strangers 
will read my brief history, w^hich the hand of friendship may 
chronicle upon the marble, and then turn away w^ith a sigh, 
and say, such is the end of man. Those in w^hose memories 
I may live will often come to strew flowers upon my grave 
and drop a tear of affection. They will plant the rose, the 
lily, and the evergreen, as emblems of a fragrant and beauti- 
ful immortality which they assign me in the Paradise of God. 
All this will take place with me — yes, all may say with me. 
Ah ! it is a solemn thought, that every step brings us nearer 
to our enemy; a solemn thought that there is but one 
passage to eternity, and that lies through ^' death's iron gate." 
For — 



LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 85 

** Sure 'tis a serious thing to die, my soul ! 
What a strange moment must it be, when near 
Thy journey's end thou hast the gulf in view ! 
That awful gulf no mortal e'er repass'd, 
To tell what's doing on the other side ! 
Nature runs back and shudders at the sight, 
^nd every life-string bleeds at thought of parting." 

Yes, the moment of death is one of thrilling solemnity ; 
yet all must meet it, for ''there is a time to die." But, 
blessed be God, he can arm us with that moral preparation 
which will carry us triumphantly through the last conflict, and 
enable us to echo back from the valley of the shadow of 
death, for the encouragement of the living, " grave! where 
is thy victory ? O death ! where is thy sting ? The sting of 
death is sin ; and the strength of sin is the law. But, thanks 
be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus 
Christ." The Christian knows that the grave is the home of 
the earthly, the bosom of God of the spiritual. For, as all 
material things are in motion, and will only rest when they 
find their appropriate centre, so the spirit which lives within 
us will only rest when borne to the bosom of Him who 
formed it. As the vapor that is lifted from the bosom of the 
sea never pauses until it has performed its mission and 
returned to its parent, so the soul finds true repose only after 
it has as faithfully performed its work, and, by the force of 
that spiritual law which is designed to govern it, it is drawn 
up to God. There it shall live forever. And, as I look upon 
this w^asting world and upon my decaying frame, I rejoice 
8 



86 LESSONS WHICH THE SEPULCHRE IMPARTS. 

in the consciousness that I shall live when the heavens and 
the earth are no more. 

*' My spirit shall return to Him 

That gave its heavenly spark ; 
Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim, 

When thou thyself art dark! 
No ! it shall live again, and shine 
In bliss unknown to beams of thine ; 

By Him recalled to breath, 
Who captive led captivity, 
Who robbed the grave of victory, 

And took the sting from death!" 



CHAPTER FIFTH. 

THE GLORY OF MAN. 



" Our glories float between the earth and heaven, 
Like clouds that seem pavilions of the sun, 
And are the playthings of the casual winds." 



At the end of life's journey stands the open sepulchre to 
receive us, and to enclose all of man that is material and 
shadowy. Only that which is spiritual, that has emanated 
from us, will not go down into its darkness. As inquirers 
after the real and not imaginary worth of the things around 
us, we must not forget the true stand-point from which to 
survey them ; for, the position we occupy, and the medium 
through w^hich we view objects, greatly influence the mind 
in the conceptions which it forms of the real or supposed 
character of those objects. When we look forward through 
life we are liable to form an improper estimate of the value 
of things ; for, if we look through that medium of delusive 
worth which the w^orld has thrown around the objects of 
human pursuit, then w^ill we realize in our after experience 
that the poet has truly sung — 

** Distance lends enchantment to the view." 

(87) 



88 THE GLORY OF MAN. 

But what sad mistakes do those make who contemplate 
life from such a point, that everything appears in a reversed 
character, and in a magnified light. To the untaught eye 
the glow-worm is larger and more resplendent than the orb 
which wheels in cloudless majesty far out in immensity, and 
w^hich appears to the untutored observer as a feebly-burning 
taper. And equally false are the notions which men some- 
times form of what is, or is not, desirable, permanent, or of 
intrinsic value, when deciding as to the objects of their 
pursuit, or the ends for which they propose to live and to 
toil. The unsanctified mind is restless; finding no elements 
of solid peace within itself, it seeks beyond and without 
itself the sources of that happiness for which it yearns. And 
in these efforts it may, after repeated exertions, form for 
itself a paradise in the future, and clothe it wdth such an 
aspect of loveliness, and people it with such objects as a 
morbid fancy may suggest as needful accompaniments of an 
earthly Eden. And if an indulgent Providence permits man 
to reach the designated post of honor, or that state of affluence 
which he had pictured in such lively colors — if a few whirl- 
ing years have thrown him upon that sunny eminence that 
flashed so long and brilliantly to his eye, in the conscious 
possession of that of which he had dreamed, and which he 
had coveted, there is a momentary gush of joy that sheds 
its exhilarating influence over his soul — but it is not perma- 
nent ; for, he has scarcely tasted the enjoyments of his new- 
position before they are exhausted, or cease to afford delight. 
No sooner has he surveyed that high station for which he had 



• THE GLORY OF MAN. 89 

toiled SO anxiously and long, than he finds it a weariness and 
vexation ; because the responsibilities and cares which are its 
inevitable appendages, diminish the glory and dispel the 
charm which spell-bound his spirit for years ; for, all that 
earth can give is doomed to bear thorns. 

Far safer is it, and infinitely wiser is he, who goes in 
thought to the end of life's race and looks back to its begin- 
ning ; examines the history of others, and studies the character 
and value of things by the testimony of those whose experience 
enabled them to form a proper estimate of earthly things, and 
to pronounce a just verdict upon them. For, although the 
sepulchre seems gloomy and silent, yet does it shed light 
upon things otherwise dark, because all its utterances are wise 
and truthful. Let us then stand together in the presence of 
this calm and solemn monitor, and listen to his voice as he 
speaks of the transient nature of all things. As a messenger 
of God, he announces far more solemnly and impressively 
than any other preacher, that ''All flesh is grass, and the 
glory of man as the flower of the grass. The grass withereth, 
the flower fadeth because the spirit of the Lord bloweth 
upon it." 

And, as we have already heard his lesson concerning the 
end of all the living, let us now hear him on the glory of 
man. Beautiful and fragrant is the flower, but it falleth to 
the earth and withereth ; and so short-lived and perishable a 
thing is often the glory of man. But what is the glory of 
man } Doubtless, that upon which he sets the highest value, 
8* 



90 THE GLORY OF MAN. • 

and which constitutes his feUcity. That to which all his 
thoughts tend, that for which his heart pulsates, and around 
which his holiest alBTections cluster. Whatever that may be, 
it constitutes his glory. He glories in its pursuit, and rejoices 
in its possession ; but it is obvious that, in a world made up 
of beings so various in tneir temperaments, so different in 
their pursuits, so unlike in their circumstances, and so diverse 
in their tastes, it is not the same thing with all. But 
whatever this glory of man may be, it is the paradise w^hich 
he has formed and beautified with fountains and brooks, and 
flowers and music — all for himself. There he lives 
and loves ; there he offers his orisons and vespers ; and it is to 
him w^hat the light is to the sun, or beauty to the landscape — 
his glory. It varies, how^ever, with constitutional organiza- 
tion, and is influenced and modified by the position and 
calling of the individual. 

There are those who may be properly styled domestic in 
their feehngs, habits, and enjoyments. Their pleasures 
are chiefly found within the little home circle, and, therefore, 
their exertions are mostly directed to such additions and 
such improvements, in all that lies within that sphere, as will 
increase their delight. Fondly do parents cherish that 
group of sprightly children which daily encircle them. They 
leave ro means untried, and neglect no opportunities to 
promote the intellectual and social culture of their offspring. 
And no stranger know^s the emotions of pleasure with which 
parents contemplate their expanding forms and unfolding 



THE GLORY OF MAN. 91 

minds. And after they have made the necessary attain- 
ments in useful and ornamental knowledge to fit them for 
the social circle, they are conscious of a lofty pride when 
they behold their children stepping forth into society, and 
by their many obvious accomplishments, attracting the 
admiring eyes of the multitude. They glory in them as so 
many new attractions to that family, honorably known and 
respected for generations. And there are perhaps few things 
of a temporal character in which man may more rationally 
glory than in a w^ell-regulated family. For, as an institution, 
it is certainly designed and eminently fitted to promote our 
happiness ; and, under judicious management, it may be 
productive of untold blessings to all its members. There, 
hearts beat in unison and spirits intimately blend. There, 
there is a transfusion of sympathy and love from one to the 
other. 

** There blend the ties that strengthen 
Our hearts in hours of grief, 
The silver links that lengthen 
Joy's visits when most brief." 

It is the best part that is left us of Eden — • it is a type of^ 
heaven ; and we do not wonder that the heart should exult 
amid the scenes and enjoyments of that home which is 
unblighted, where none has drooped, w^here no shadow has 
yet fallen, no note of sorrow^ has yet been uttered, but where 
all is bright and vocal with merry voices. But how suddenly 
are such scenes changed! Over that circle of fond and 



92 THE GLORY OF MAN. 

loving hearts there poises the dark angel, and shakes from 
his plumes the elements of disease, and they fall as the 
mildew upon the blossom. The fairest and strongest is 
bowed under sickness, and in a few days droops and dies. 
And another, and another, until there is nothing left but a 
few^ broken hearts, weeping over the memories of other days ; 
the sad memorials of the truth that the glory of man is as 
the flower of the grass. 

And ! what solemn lessons does the sepulchre utter of 
some such family scenes. Perhaps it tells us of the beautiful 
daughter, or the noble son, whose fond but mistaken parents 
displayed more taste in the decorations of the casket, than 
care in burnishing the priceless jewel which it contained; 
and who were determined that their child should dazzle in 
society, but labored not to make it shine in heaven. And 
now that the flower has dropped from the parent stem, the 
aroma of a virtuous and holy life in the lost one, which is the 
only balm that heals the wounded spirit, does not soothe their 
bereaved hearts. For, not only has their glory faded, but no 
hope cheers them, that the spirit of that fair form which they 
laid in the tomb has risen to the companionship of the holy 
around the throne of God. 

There are others who glory in pleasure ; that say to their 
hearts, '' Go to, now, I w^ill prove thee with mirth ;" and to 
scenes of gaiety and mirth they hasten. The votaries of 
pleasure and of fashion, they will gather what sweets may be 
thought to exist in a life of frivolity. They are decked out 
in costly apparel. The world is laid under tribute, and the 



THE GLORY OF MAN. 93 

toil of many nations is pressed into the business of attiring 
such for the drawing-room, the theatre, or the levee. And 
they have a butterfly's glory while they flutter and dazzle in 
the blaze of jewels. But alas! how^ often do the frequenters 
of those scenes, and the lovers of these enjoyments find, that 
such a life is destitute of solid peace, and at best nothing 
but an empty show ; for, underneath those gems that sparkle* 
on the snowy brow there live dark, corroding thoughts ; and 
beneath that richly-ornamented satin there may lie a broken 
heart ; and, while that outw^ard structure of clay is beautified 
to such a degree that it might be mistaken for an angel's 
abode, the inhabitant may scorn and loathe these vile 
trappings of earth as unbefitting its nature and destiny. Had 
Ave the powder of drawing a truthful testimony from one and 
all of the multitudes of those who glory in such scenes, they 
'would with one accord corroborate the declarations of 
Solomon concerning a life of pleasure, and say, ''that it is 
vanity and vexation of spirit." '' We might ask the brilliant 
courtier, and Lord Chesterfield would tell us, I have enjoyed 
all the pleasures of the world, and I do not regret their loss. 
I have been behind the scenes ; I have seen all the coarse 
pulleys and dirty ropes which move the gaudy machines ; 
and I have seen and smelt the tallow candles which illumi- 
nate the whole decorations to the astonishment of an ignorant 
audience." "We might ask the w^orld's poet, and w^e 
v»^ould be answered by an imprecation, by that splendid 
genius who," 



94 THE GLORY OF MAN. 

" Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump 
Of fame; drank early, deeply drank, drank draughts. 
That common millions might have quenched, then died 
Of thirst, because there was no more to drink." 

But, though we should have the testimony of all who ever 
gloried in pleasure as to its worthless and fading character, 
none could so well instruct us as the sepulchre. All that 
glitter is here extinguished ; and all the pride and pomp of 
earth go down into its darkness. It has received the sport- 
ing youth and the thoughtless maiden ; the wit and the 
buffoon ; the lordly worldling and the haughty matron; and 
the duration of their glory stretched through a few vexatious 
years, and then sank into a gloom which the ages of eternity 
will not break. 

There are those, also, who glory in wealth. Many use 
this world so as to abuse it. They know not the only true 
value of wealth; and are ignorant of the objects God designed 
to be promoted, and the ends to be accomplished, by 
its bestowal. Instead of appropriating it in a manner so as 
to produce lasting excellence, many rejoice in its glitter, and 
call that its glory. As everything is beautiful in its time and 
in its place, so everything has an excellence peculiar to itself. 
There is a glory in the sun which rolls in the firmament 
above, and there is a glory in wealth. But as yonder sun 
w^ould not glow to the eyes of admiring millions, nor wreathe 
nature in smiles, and cover the earth with golden harvests, 
did he retain his rays within his bosom, thus w^ealth has no 
glory so long as it lies in iron coffers, or is held under the 
hard pressure of the miser's grasp, or is used to feed the 



THE GLORY OF MAN. 95 

pride and passions of man. It must go out on its ordained 
mission, and wake a world of misery into life and joy ; breathing 
hope into the desponding, clothing the naked, feeding the 
hungry, and beautifying sin-stricken humanity with its benefac- 
tions — then is wealth glorious. The hand of affluence may sow 
fields which wull require many angels to gather, w^hen Christ 
comes on his great white throne to reap the earth. The 
rich have great responsibilities, which are inherited with their 
wealth, and many feel them. It is a fearful trust to which 
they are called ; for, as stewards of the great Jehovah, their 
accounts will be examined at the bar of the final day, and 
their disbursements approbated or condemned. He w4io 
fortunately or unfortunately commands millions, should have 
more than human wisdom to direct him in their management 
and use, that they may yield him a harvest of glory. When 
God gives such mental capacities to an individual, that his 
intellectual furniture fits him to legislate, or to command in 
the field — to rule on a throne, or to send forth from 
the retirement of the study offsprings of his mind which 
mould the character of thousands, sending out an influence 
which has power to mar with stains of vice, or jewel with 
virtues the character of immortal beings — all acknowledge 
that he has a fearful mission, which is destined to issue 
in a glorious or terrible future. To prostitute such talents 
to the cause of vice, is to use immortal treasures to 
buy immortal woes ; for he who flings with a vile hand the 
coin imaged with the King of Kings into the dust, must 
agonize under purchased wrath. But is not wealth a gift of 



96 THE GLORY OF MAN. 

God under another form ? Do we not rightly baptize it 
talent? Is it not thus called by Him who has bestowed it? 
Aye, a talent which is to be used to promote the sovereign's 
honor, and thus insure the subject's glory. 

If, then, we w^ould have the true glory of wealth, we 
should be God's almoners — his stewards and agents, wisely 
managing and funding our treasures, that, in common with 
the other divinely-ordained instrumentalities, they may con- 
tribute to the elevation of mankind, to the diffusion of light, 
and the covering of the earth with the knowledge of salva- 
tion. We would not condemn any lawful use of wealth. 
We believe it designed to minister to the comfort of its 
possessor and of his family; and if that requires it, or 
if it will promote their happiness and not inflict an injury, he 
may employ it to construct elegant mansions, and ornament 
them in princely style. He may have his spacious gardens 
and parks, and probably many other things which may be 
regarded as needful appendages of the wealthy and great ; 
for all these expenditures w^ill promote industry, and give 
food and raiment to the worthy laborer. But if he would have 
large and durable comfort, he must suffer the streams of 
his affluence to roll beyond the domestic circle, beyond 
his gardens and his parks, and carry their blessings over 
the wide fields of our afflicted race; — that by those 
streams there may grow the tree of knowledge, of w^iose 
fruit the poor may eat — and the tree of life, which 
•yields immortal nourishment, and whose leaves are for the 
healing of the nations. All this the affluent can do, by en- 



THE GLORY OF MAN. 97 

dewing institutions of learning, and by enriching with theii 
benefactions associations instituted for the spread of the 
Gospel. The cause of Missions, Domestic and Foreign — 
the cause of Education — the Bible — the Tract, and many- 
other Christian Unions, are mediums through w^hich he can 
diffuse his benefactions ; and then will the true glory of 
wealth become visible, when it makes the earth radiant with 
the blessings and hopes of Christianity. The children of this 
world are pronounced wise because they keep their capital 
w^orking, and multiplying as it w^orks. And it is the same 
principle, only extended a little farther in its bearings, which 
controls the action of the wealthy Christian. ! yes, 
immortal ages will bear w^itness that this is the true glory of 
wealth — when it is made to beautify eternal mansions, and to 
augment the number of their occupants. To sw^ell the 
number of those who w^alk through the Paradise of God, who 
rejoice along the river of life, and wake to endless praise the 
harps of gold — this is a w^ork of true glory. Let it then be 
our glory, if blessed with w^ealth, to wake millions of heathen 
voices in the eternal song. Would you not, if you could, in 
the day of judgment, place a harp in the hand of that 
degraded heathen and a crowm of life upon his head, and 
send him w^hite-robed into the golden city to join in the song 
of Moses and the Lamb ? And w^ould you not then, amid 
the throes of a dissolving universe, when the shrieks of the 
lost and the crash of worlds shall send tremors through all 
the framew^ork of your spirit, and you shall see eternity flash- 
ing around you in all its tremendous realities, and revealing 
9 



9& THE GLORY OF MAlf. 

the worth of the soul and the awful price of its redemption, 
would you not then experience more pleasure in sending 
one immortal soul into eternal life, than you would in the 
enjoyment of unbounded wealth for ten thousand years? 
And yet, that which you cannot do then you may do now. 
For, behold the cry of the perishing comes from the habita- 
tions of cruelty, and vibrates upon our ears ; and their 
eternal destiny hangs upon thy willy ! affluent man. 

But let us once more interrogate the sepulchre where we 
stand in relation to the false and the true glory of w^ealth. 
It tells us, that w^hile it swallow^s up the empty glitter of the 
worldling's grandeur, it claims not, it destroys not, the 
abiding glory of w^ealth ; for that belongs to heaven, and is 
immortal. It will live and shine forever in the objects whom 
it lifted out of the depths of sin, and lighted to the mansions 
on high. But behold the tomb where sleeps the man, 
the philosophy of whose life was that of Epicurus, and see 
how his glory is turned into shame. The owner of many 
broad acres has but an equal space with his servant whereon 
to repose his death-stricken limbs ; and the former occupant 
of a princely mansion is now the inmate of the narrow grave. 
And although his body reposes in the dust, his soul finds 
not its home in heaven. But he who lived accordinsr to the 
rules of Christ has a green memory on earth, while his spirit 
rejoices in the palace of God. 

^' A man," says Jeremy Taylor, '^ may read a sermon, the 
best and most pathetic ever man preached, if he shall but 
enter the sepulchres of kings. In the same Escurial where 



THE GLORY OF MAN. 9§ 

the Spanish princes live in greatness and power, and decree 
\var or peace, they have wisely placed a cemetery, w^here 
their ashes and their glory shall sleep till time shall be 
no more ; and where our kings have been crowned their 
ancestors lie interred — and they must walk over their grand- 
sires' heads to take the crown. There is an acre sown with 
royal seed, the copy of the greatest change from rich to naked, 
from ceiled roofs to arched coffins, from living like gods to 
die like men. There is enough to cool the flames of lust, to 
abate the heights of pride, to appease the itch of covetous 
desires, to sully and dash out the dissembling colors of 
a lustful, artificial, and imaginary beauty. There the warlike 
and peaceful, the fortunate and the miserable, the beloved 
and the despised princes mingle their dust, and pay down 
their symbol of mortality, and tell all the world that when we 
die our ashes shall be equal to kings', and our accounts 
easier, and our pains for our crowns shall be less." 

Having considered human glory under three different 
forms — that of the family, of pleasure, and of wealth — it 
remains yet for us to ask of the sepulchre as to the glory of fame. 
It is true that the glory of man appears under many other forms ; 
for, as the desire is innate and universal, so will it evolve itself 
under a countless variety of aspects. Man is born for glory, 
and if he finds not that which is real and substantial he 
grasps its shadow. For, as the visible creations of Jehovah 
are only manifestations or embodiments of those beauti- 
ful and grand conceptions which reposed in the Divine mind 
from all eternity, until externalized in the works of His 



100 THE GLORY OF MAN. 

power, so, in the huraan mind, those objects in which man 
glories lie in undeveloped desires, until outwardly manifested 
in the object of his choice. The conception of that which he 
prefers lies deep within his soul, whether it is low or exalted, 
and, according as its character may be, so will be the form 
which his glory assumes. But it is not necessary to enume- 
rate any others, since we have a fair exhibition of it under 
these several heads ; indeed, its character and perishable- 
ness may be seen wherever and in whatever outward 
manifestations it may produce itself. But let us consider it 
for a moment under the last-mentioned form. That all men 
desire fame is as evident as the fact that all men breathe. It 
is an essential property in human nature ; and the mind 
destitute of it would lack one of its prime elements, and be 
like the eagle without his wings, or the lion without his 
strength. But for it, none would rise to respectable stand- 
ing, much less soar to that elevation where the range of 
intellectual vision is widest, and the eye of science darts its 
rapid glances over the immense fields of knowledge. Its 
early motions are witnessed in the little child, whose first 
essays at play or study are accompanied with a quick glance 
at the mother for a smile of approbation. And from the 
humble position of the little prattler by my knee, up to the 
loftiest pinnacle of fame where man has inscribed his name, 
there beats not a heart between these two extremes that longs 
not for approbation, and that loves not the music of human 
applause. Persons covet admiration, whether it is accorded 
for the setting out of a good dinner, or doing a useful job of 



THE GLOEY OF MAN. 101 

work, or successfully marshalling and leading to victory the 
steel-bristling army, or the brilliant achievements in legislation 
and diplomacy. All love glory in this form, and loving, 
pursue it. But although there is this universality of desire 
for the esteem of others, and this unquenchable thirst for 
glory, we should not forget that there is a difference in kind ; 
we should always recognize the distinction between the 
human and the spiritual. Human glory will perish because 
it is human ; the spiritual will endure because it is divine. 
And while the desire is indestructible, because a part of the 
mind, the glory which man reaps will be lasting or evanes- 
cent as the character of the object from which it is derived 
is frail or immutable. We are invited to glory in purity, in 
virtue, and in God. ^' Let not the wise man glory in his 
w^isdom, nor the rich in his riches, but let him that glorieth, 
glory in the Lord!" To glory in that which is durable and 
good is everywhere enjoined in the gospel, and represented 
as an object of legitimate pursuit. The joys of eternal 
salvation are offered to those w^ho by ^' persevering in well- 
doing seek for honor, glory, and immortality." But this is 
different from that empty fame w^hich originates w^ith man 
and terminates in the tomb. The military hero whose chief 
end is to exalt himself and immortalize his name, is grasping 
at a shadow. He may bear himself proudly through scenes 
of carnage, and the groans of the wounded and dying may 
be the musical harbingers of those notes of applause which 
will intoxicate his brain on his return from the successful 

9* 



102 THE GLORY OF MAN. 

campaign. He may succeed in getting a place on the 
historic page, and in jfiUing the world with his fame, and pass 
from height to height until he has risen to the summit of 
imperial rule ; but if his aims have no higher origin or 
tendency than self, he will, meteor-like, dazzle and blaze for 
a moment and then leave the world in thicker gloom. 
Those sounds of applause may exhilarate his spirits while 
riding in triumph on a wave of fortune, but when washed 
by an adverse billow on some lonely St. Helena, to die a 
broken-hearted prisoner, his glory, like a beautiful bubble, 
bursts and vanishes into thin air, and on his tomb it is written, 
" Thus passeth the glory of the world." And ! how does 
the well-earned fame of the great diminish in real worth w^hen 
the shadows of the sepulchre fall around them ! If the man 
of genius, of letters, or philosophy, has sought glory from 
men more than from God, what avails it that he is loaded 
with chaplets and wreathed with laurels, bound upon his brow 
by manly hands, and decorated with mementoes of woman's 
love ! how empty and worthless do all appear as he comes 
to the open grave ! Can these earthly honors soothe him in 
the dying strife ? Can the recollection of days spent amid 
luxurious scenes, and in brilliant circles, still one throb of 
anguish? Can all the distinctions of a successful career 
shed one gleam of light into the dark valley ? Can golden 
honors unbar the gates of paradise, that his race may be yet 
more brilliant and glorious ? Ah ! no. If he has only sought 
the praise of man, and undervalued the praise of God, all 



THE GLORY OF MAN. 103 

that he hath is worthless, and his glory, which the thoughtless 
envied, is like the autumnal flower, which blooms a few hours 
and then falls to the earth, and its leaves no one gathers. 
And such is the glory which crowns the lives of all the 
illustrious, that in whatever sphere they may move, or whatever 
they may achieve for their country's honor, or the church's 
interest ; all that is earthly will perish, and only that which 
links itself with God will abide, bright and beautiful, forever. 
Such then is the glory of man — frail, short-lived, and transient 
— vanishing like the beauties of the rainbow — evanescent as 
the gorgeous glow of the evening cloud — passing away like 
sweet melodies on the dying breeze. 

But there is true and lasting glory in all the forms w^hich 
we have considered, provided our aims and purposes in all 
the relations of life contemplate the honor of God and the 
good of man. Let us then glory in God, and, with Paul, in 
the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. For if we make that the 
centre of our affections, and the shrine w-hither we bring and 
lay all our crowns of joy, then those distinctions and honors 
w^hich we may receive from this world will be baptized by 
the blood of the cross with a fadeless immortality, seeing that 
all are made tributary to the divine glory. Thus we may have 
a legitimate glory in usefulness and goodness ; and, because it 
springs from God, it claims a lifetime with the Eternal. 
And should these pages fall under the eye of one whose sad 
experience has taught him the vanity of that glory which 
comes not from God — who has been drawn far into the 



104 THE GLORY OF MAN. 

paths of corruption, and has sullied his immortal spirit to 
such a degree that the dark shadows of despair chill every 
feeble purpose to rise to an elevation of purity and hope, so 
that in view of his frequent failures he yields to the 
current of passion as the fatigued mariner gives w^ay to the 
opposing tide that bears him to the fearful gulf — let him not 
yield to despondency. 

" Cast not the clouded gem away, 
Quench not the dim but living ray ; — 
My brother man, beware ! 
AVith that deep voice which from the skies, 
Forbade the Patriarch's sacrifice, 
God's angel cries forbear." 

Rise again and link your next purpose of good with the 
hand that was pierced on Calvary, and it will raise you to 
His fellowship and glory. And if animated by His spirit, 
whose glory was in going about and doing good, and our 
hearts are pervaded by his love, then will the outflows of our 
being be like streams in a desert land, w^aking sweet melo- 
dies where'er they flow. For the love of Christ will 
constrain us to live a life of charity ; and true godliness, and 
practical benevolence form the highest glory of man. 

** See the lone wand'rer 'mid the wastes of death 
Rejoicing, hails the Alpine blossom's breath, 
As shuddering at the glacier's awful power. 
He seeks the beauty of the meek-eyed flower, 
And there reposes in a steadfast trust. 
That on the plant no avalanche storm will burst. 
AVhat kindles thus his faith and calms his fears? 
The seal of love and hope the blossom bears ; 



THE GLORY OF MAN. 105 

Tho' round him heave a dark and frozen flood, 

One thought is peace — is safety, " God is good; " 

Nor could the wand'rer idly turn away ; 

His lip might move not, but his heart would pray ; 

And he would gather in that musing hour, 

Amid those trophies of Jehovah's power. 

New strength of soul, a grander scope of thought: 

His mind to nobler purpose would be wrought, 

And feel and own, in this calm, solemn mood, 

That 'tis man's highest glory to be good." 



CHAPTER SIXTH. 



IN THE SEPULCHRE THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 



' Thither the poor, the pris'ner, and the mourner, 
Fly for relief, and lay their burdens down." 

"Weep not for him who dieth, 
For he sleeps and is at rest; 
And the couch on which he lieth, 
Is the green earth's quiet breast." 



Within the compass of human life there are crowded 
immense interests. Upon this theatre are results wrought 
out, which w^ill be contemplated with complacency or 
remorse through a long eternity. Here each one builds for 
himself a character which w^ill give a passport to a miserable 
or glorious future ; fashioning a name that will be fragrant 
or offensive in heaven and on earth, while it will constitute 
a tow^er of strength in w^hich those may shelter who are 
impressible by his example, or a pile of ruins which will 
bury golden immortal hopes for all who are corrupted by his 
influence. And limited as the sphere may seem which our 
vision spans, there are forces acting within that circle whose 
vibrations thrill far into eternity. Here all act — all are in 
motion ; some in the pursuit of substantial good, others 

(106) 



IN THE SEPULCHRE, ETC. 107 

chasing phantoms. We are in the midst of a scene of 
incessant activity. There can be no quiet, no peace, no rest 
here, for it is on the great arena of life that the earthly and 
the spiritual, the human and divine, are waging their hard 
conflicts. Activity is a law w^hich controls all things, or 
rather the manifest result of those hidden forces which reside 
in all created objects. And wisely has it been ordained that 
it should be so. For it is the ceaseless roll of the ocean 
that makes it a fountain of health, afid the vibration of the 
atmosphere which fits it to sustain life and invigorate the 
frame. Our forests are robed in their beautiful dress ; our 
hills and valleys smile; our fields wave with golden harvests; 
and the world is full of life and joy, because the heavens and 
the earth — yea, all things are in motion. 

And while much of the activity in human society aims not 
at the accomplishment of good, but is in direct conflict with 
the laws of man's being and the rule of heaven, yet is it 
well that God has made the mind of man restless, and 
accorded to it liberty of choice. Even if there were a dis- 
position for inactivity, there is no place for indolence nor 
repose between the cradle and the grave. For each day 
brings its cares and its toils. Life is a river, which is only 
beautiful and refreshing while it flows. It is a voyage over 
heaving billows, which forbids us to pause — a warfare 
which will not allow ns to ungird our armor until the final 
victory is achieved. But here, at the sepulchre, all our toils 
and conflicts end. Here the river has found the ocean — 
the racer has reached the goal — the mariner has gained the 



108 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

haven — and the soldier has won his last triumph. All toil 
ends here. And 0, what multitudes are doomed through 
long years to eke out a scanty subsistence. For while a few 
in some measure escape the decree, " in the sweat of thy 
face shalt thou eat thy bread," the masses are conscious 
that it has fallen upon them wdth painful severity. Behold 
the numbers who toil in our cities from early dawn till 
late in the night : if the compensation was such as to 
afford them the needful comforts of life, the labor would be 
cheerfully performed, for then it would bring its blessings. 
But there is the poor widow" with her helpless babes, and her 
heart laboring with heavy w^oes ; she feels no responsive 
throb from, all those living hearts that beat through that great 
city. She is alone with her helpless ones. Patiently she 
plies her needle until her fingers bleed. Often is she 
tempted to seek a little rest, for the night is far advanced, 
and nature clamors for repose ; but her eye falls upon that 
pallet of straw w^here sleep her children with only a few 
tatters to shield their tender limbs from the piercing cold, and 
the thought of their cries for bread in the morning goes like 
an iron into her soul, and excites her to another effort. She 
rallies her exhausted strength and toils on, cheered with the 
hope that even for misery and poverty there will one day be 
sweet repose in the grave. Wearily and heavily do those 
nights roll on ; and through all her days she is cheered by no 
smile, encouraged by no sympathising look ; for rough words 
and a haughty bearing accompany the small pittance doled 
out by her iron-hearted oppressor for that work which is 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 109 

impregnate with the strength of her soul and the blood of 
her heart, and baptized with the widow's and the orphan's 
tears. And with unfaiHng confidence in the wisdom and 
goodness of an overruling Providence, she continues faithful 
to her charge, until He, under whose eye she toiled, and to 
whose throne she looked, and in whose promises she trusted, 
says it is enough, and sends his angels to bring that care-^ 
worn spirit from that humble dwelling to the palace of God. 
And what a spectacle would oppress the mind could we 
penetrate those gloomy mines, where thousands are born, and 
live and die, and who associate nothing bright or pleasant 
with life, for they know it only in its toils and tears. Look 
w^here we will — in the shop or the counting-house, on the 
field or in the study — everywhere are arms in motion and 
hearts palpitating under hard pressures. All these shall find 
repose in the peaceful tomb. All care and all business will 
end there. There will be felt no more fears and anxieties 
about the success of this enterprise or that speculation, the 
safety of this investment or that outlay. No more pressures 
to cloud the mind and weigh down the spirits, and to annoy 
and make unhappy a whole family. In the tomb there are 
no more transactions to test the shrewdness and skill of 
competitors in trade. There the husbandman, who long and 
faithfully tilled the soil, under whose cultivating hand the 
wilderness was displaced by fields of waving grain, whose 
industry brought nourishment from the earth for hungry 
millions, and who for many years stood by the storehouse of. 
Nature and dealt out bread to the needy, at last finds a quiet 
10 



110 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

retreat. Often, as he watched the revolving earth when it 
rolled up garnished with countless beautiful things which had 
risen from their winter's grave and filled the world with 
fragrance, he had pictured to his mind the prospect of those 
who go down into the tomb with the assurances of hope ; and 
he gladly toiled on until death bid him rest from his labors. 

And there, too, sleeps sweetly the man of honest and hard 
labor. There is one whom I often saw coming forth from 
his cottage in the early blush of morning, and threading his 
way through fields and woods until he reached the scene of 
his daily work. And manfully did he bend to toil under a 
scorching sun, animated with thoughts of home and the 
prospect of the evening which would bring him to his neat 
and quiet abode, where happy and cheerful hearts were 
awaiting his return. One evening, as I was returning from 
some pastoral visits, I observed him as he had given the last 
stroke of the axe, and, as he laid it aside, it was w^ith a 
countenance beaming with satisfaction that he surveyed the 
work he had accomplished ; with a grateful heart he 
lifted up his thoughts to heaven, thankful to the great Father 
for the health and strength he had aflforded, and then, with 
a rapid step and a bounding heart, he turned his face home- 
w^ard. Rapidly did the distance between him and his 
home diminish. Long before he reached his cottage I saw 
a group of sprightly children running to welcome their 
beloved father; for to children days seem like years: all at 
once they grasped those manly hands which had grown 
hard with toil, and, with the least one borne on his arm^ and 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. Ill 

escorted by the others, he entered his humble dwelling ; and 
there, under the caresses of those little ones and the smiles 
of a gentle wife, he had a happiness which is but seldom 
enjoyed by princes. I drew near to that family and was 
kindly w-elcomed to the poor man's cottage. Our conversa- 
tion soon turned upon the incidents of the day ; he spoke 
of his labor and his condition with a cheerful spirit, and I 
discovered that all shared his feelings. It was pleasant to go 
there and learn how the grace of God can sustain and 
comfort, and w^hat a glow of peace and contentment it sheds 
through humble life. For years w^as he given to unbroken 
toil; but the blessing of God w-as upon it, and the labor 
of his hands was prospered ; his children were like trees 
growing by the water-brooks of life, w^hose virtues were fresh 
and visible ; and many pronounced them blessed. I knew 
him long, and loved him well. But sickness came, and like 
the oak whose bosom had been bared to many a storm, and 
stood firm amid the shock of elements, at last bowed and 
gently sank upon the lap of earth. I was called to his bed- 
side, but only to see how a good man dies, and to be 
strengthened by the lessons which flowed from his dying 
lips. I had attended others through the struggles of the 
final hour, and heard at other bedsides lamentations and fears 
uttered for the wife and children, but from him I heard only 
words of consolation and trust; and sweetly as if spoken out 
of heaven did his dying prayer fall upon my ears. After he 
had pressed an affectionate and hopeful farewell, he folded 
his hands and lifted his eyes to heaven, and said, ^'0 ! 



112 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

my merciful and faithful God, I can toil no more for my 

beloved ones ; but ' Thou art the Father of the fatherless, 

and husband of the widow,' into Thy hands I commit them 

and my spirit — Lord Jesus receive me — amen," and he 

breathed no more. 

*' Sweet is the scene where Christians die, 
Where holy souls retire to rest ; 
How mildly beams the closing eye ! 
V How gently heaves the expiring breast I 

So fades a summer cloud away, 

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er ; 
So gently shuts the eye of day, 
So dies a wave along the shore." 

It was a beautiful morning in the latter end of May that 
the neighbors "gathered around that neat cottage, as by a 
common impulse of sympathy for the bereaved and regard 
for the dead. The rich and the poor, the young and the old 
were there — ^for they all loved him. There is something 
beautiful in a country funeral, where all classes and all ranks 
meet and mingle to follow their neighbor and friend to the 
grave. And many were the expressions of heartfelt sympathy 
and regret as they looked upon his face for the last time. 
And as God had given him a calm evening for his peaceful 
death so had he ordered a beautiful day for his burial. The 
one seemed emblematic of Ais brilliant end ; the other of his 
blissful eternity. For on the evening I repaired to attend 
him in his last moments, as I was approaching his house, 
a dark mountain of clouds which had just poured their 
tribute into the lap of the green earth, suddenly rose, and 
suffered the sun to sink behind the horizon in his full-orbed 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 113 

glory, while he threw a gorgeous glow upon the storm-clouds 
which had a while obscured his brightness ; a striking 
emblem, thought I, as I came away from that house of 
mourning, of the scene which had transpired wdthin. Thus 
also seemed that morning, on w^hich we had assembled to 
follow his remains to the tomb, prophetic of the glory amid 
which his spirit rejoiced ; for the sun shone bright, and nature 
was fresh and fragrant; all labor was suspended, and the 
people neatly attired ; not the sound of a hammer nor a note 
of the plough-boy w^as heard ; that universal quiet so soothing 
to hearts smitten with grief reigned over the landscape, and 
w^as only broken by the soft notes of a dove in a large w-illow 
which shaded the cottage, and in whose spreading boughs 
she had often ^made music for the-poor cottager ; and the 
occasional sound of the toHing bell which announced that the 
hour for the mournful service had arrived. His employer, a 
man whose generosity to the poor and kindness to the 
afflicted often filled me with admiration, had his carriage 
placed in front to convey the family of the deceased, and 
then a long line of other neat vehicles, and a large number 
on foot, formed the funeral cortege. And as w^e moved 
towards the church, in low sounds w^ere uttered eulogies, 
that kings might covet. And when his body was lowered 
into the grave, and dust w^as committed to dust, we said 
^^ Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, yea saith the 
spirit from henceforth, for they rest from their labors and their 
works do follow them." And there was a response of tears 
from the rich and the poor ; and from all hearts there seemed 
10* 



114 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

to go up the silent prayer — " Let me die the death of the 
righteous, and let my last end be like his." 

*• For him no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
Or climb his knee, the envied kiss to share." 

No ! he sleeps sweetly in the grave, and his memory is 
blessed. Farewell my first spiritual born — -my friend and 
fellow-heir of glory. 

In the grave also rests the statesman who so long and 
gallantly steered the ship of state ; faithfully did he serve 
his country ; in war and in peace he was ever the true 
patriot ; by the exertions of his intellect he threw off* many a 
brilliant page for his country's history; when dangers w^ere 
present he was ready to meet them ; when storms darkened 
the political horizon and passions rose in fearful conflict — 
when the body politic was quivering in every fibre W'ith alarm, 
and the nation's heart trembled almost pulseless, and fear had 
fallen upon the people, it was his office to quiet the storm, 
and to heal the discords. But, ah ! how often was his spirit 
wounded by unkindness ! his patriotic exertions were 
pronounced the fruits of selfishness, and the oflTspring of 
ambition ; the eye of envy was ever ready to detect flaws in 
his character — the tongue of slander was always moving 
with utterances of disparagement ; and hands which should 
have been employed in weaving garlands to decorate his 
brow were busied in preparing crowns of thorns to wound 
his temples; but, in the midst of opposing influences, he 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 115 

remained firm ; true to his cause, sublime in his conceptions 
of duty, and exalted in his convictions of that which would 
be lasting and glorious for his country, he stood invested 
with that majestic grandeur which the gifted Virgil so 
eloquently accords to Mezentius. 

*' He like a solid rock by seas enclosed, 
To raging winds and roaring waves exposed, 
From his proud summit looking down disdains 
Their empty clamor, and unmoved remains." 

Among the things w^hich we have most cause to mourn, as 
a people, is the want of a proper appreciation of the great and 
useful while they live. No sooner does it become manifest 
that a great intellect is rising and shooting its beams across 
the earth, than there are those found, who, instead of doing 
homage to the rising star, labor to diminish its light, and 
would, if ihey could, quench its glory in forgetfulness and 
gloom. But, as they cannot pluck him from that orbit in 
which he is fitted to move, nor yet endure the strength of his 
shining, their hearts, like those stagnant pools w^hich are 
troubled by the sunbeams, send up their foul vapors to 
eclipse his brightness. Prejudice, envy, and selfishness often 
render men incapable of appreciating that which is noble 
and exalted. And it is a humiliating affliction w^hich the 
patriot must endure, to have his path beset, his progress 
trammeled, and his efforts encumbered by the arts and low 
tricks of the demagogue, who has mistaken himself for his 
country — who w' ould be content to thrive on the ruins of 
the commonwealth which has given him birth and shelter, and 



116 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

who would win renown by scattering with his vile hands to 
the winds the ashes of her greatness. All illustrious 
characters are doomed to encounter the displeasure of minds 
that mov^e in small circles and give birth to nothing higher 
than detraction. Yea, too often is it the sad experience of 
those who have done most to advance every interest of the 
country, and to make her history luminous wdth glory, that, 
instead of being appreciated and honored, (the only rewards 
after which the lofty intellect aspires,) they are neglected and 
calumniated. For there are serpents along the most 
flowery paths of life, w^ho, while concealed from observation, 
are ever hissing and flinging their venom upon the deserving 
and the just. And I do not wonder that those of conscious 
intellectual strength and uprightness of intention sometimes 
feel like planting their foot upon those hearts that never throb 
with a generous emotion, and crushing them as they would 
a noisome and venomous insect. 

Perhaps none can know but those whose entire existence has 
been devoted to unremitted labor in public life, how dearly 
purchased w^as every honor which they enjoyed. But he 
who never swerved from duty, who always aimed to do 
right, who stood unmoved when others would have shrunk 
from the responsibilities of the hour, welcomes the calm of 
life\s evening, the end of his conflicts. Sweet are the closing 
hours of his eventful existence when the storms which beat 
upon him are sighing out their last groans, and the war of 
elements which raged around him is dying away. The sun 
sometimes appears far more brilliant and glorious when 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 117 

setting in the calm of an evening sky, than while he walked 
the firmament, partly obscured by the vapors which rose from 
the marshes and lowlands which he warmed. And so he, 
who long and faithfully stood upon the watch-towers of free- 
dom, and whose bosom bears many a scar received in those 
battles through which the nation struggled to greatness and 
to glory, retires into the valley of death far more resplendent 
than he ever was in life, doing homage to Christianity by 
leaning only upon the staff of its promises, confessing that God 
and eternity alone are great, and is followed by a nation's 
regrets and tears. Here, then, in the sepulchre he 
reposes — the envied, the hated, and the loved. Here no 
enemy pursues him; no shaft of calumny pierces; no vexa- 
tious and wasting cares annoy him in his quiet retreat. The 
many brilliant conflicts with other intellects are ended, and 
he sleeps humbly and peacefully as a child. And now, with- 
drawn from the forum and the senate, he lives in many 
devoted hearts ; and as the page of history unfolds his 
illustrious deeds and exalted virtues, even those who were 
wont to depreciate his worth are loud in their applauses. 

Here, also, rest those who were the originators and 
supporters of humane and Christian enterprises. Hard did 
they struggle to usher into existence and bring into favor with 
the public those homes for the unfortunate and wretched, 
w^hich have shed consolation and peace into desolate and 
|Weary hearts. Feeling for '^ others' woes," they went forth 
on errands of mercy, their feet rejoicing in the way of benevo- 
lence, and their hands never weary in dispensing blessings. 



118 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

They founded hospitals and asylums for the unfortunate 
and sick. They provided homes for the outcasts, and 
became the friends of the friendless. It is amazing, when 
we inquire into the origin of charitable institutions, through 
what difficulties they pressed into existence, and what oppo- 
sition they encountered all along their progress until the tide 
of public sympathy began to flow in their favor. Nothing 
but a deep, unsullied, and operative love for the poor and 
benighted, and the consciousness of the immense and lasting 
benefits to society, could have sustained those noble souls, 
through w^hose exertions those moral enterprises were set 
on foot which now send out their healing streams through 
all the earth. Whether the blessings which these are 
designed to convey are bodily or spiritual, or both, they 
required the toil of years to bring them into general favor. 
It was long before the generous sailor found a safe asylum, 
after he w^as so w^orn and w^eather-beaten in the service of his 
country that he was no longer able to discharge the duties 
of his calling ; for temples, and bethels, and chaplains for 
those who go down into the sea, and pause at Christian 
ports like birds of passage, were only recently secured for 
this class of men, w^ho are the general benefactors of society. 
Protracted and indefatigable exertions were required, even 
in connection with the winning and constraining power of a 
Christian lady, who, with the spirit of a Howard, has jour- 
neyed from State to State, and it was by her faithful represen- 
tations of the neglect, and in some instances the inhumanity 
with which the poor insane were treated in our almshouses, that 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 119 

she prevailed on legislators to provide comfortable asylums 
and proper care and treatment for this unhappy class of 
citizens. And such is the early history of all other institu- 
tions which demanded the active charities of men to give 
them life and make them a blessing. All made many ineffec- 
tual appeals, met with cold looks and blunt refusals, and some- 
times with open opposition. Rocky, indeed, is the human 
heart; for only will its sympathies warmly and freely flow 
after it is smitten with the rod of Jesse. Rest then in peace, 
ye true-hearted and self-sacrificing friends of humanity ! Ye 
endured the scorn of the heartless, and the abuse of the 
covetous, but you bore yourselves nobly, and triumphed ; 
and now that the Mission which has borne salvation to the 
far-off heathen, and the society which gives an open Bible to 
the poor, and those other instrumentalities which make glad 
the distressed, and light millions on the road to heaven, 
while all these institutions are shedding life, light, and happi- 
ness over an afflicted world, ye slumber in the hallowed 
grave. Your conflicts have ended in the tomb, and your 
souls have found repose in heaven; and of you it has already 
been wTitten — 



** To the blind, tlie deaf, the lame, 

To the ignorant and vile, 
Stranger, captive, slave, ye came, 

With a welcome and a smile. 
Help to all ye did dispense, 

Gold, instruction, raiment, food; 
Like the gifts of Providence, 

To the evil and the good." 



120 - IN THE SEPULCHRE 

In the sepulchre end also the trials and labors of the 
ambassador of God: although he had gone forth with a 
commission drawn in heaven, bearing the seal of the King of 
Kings, and with messages of peace from the Sovereign of the 
universe to a revolted world, yet was he not received by those 
to whom he preached the " Good News " as an accredited 
messenger from the court of heaven. The multitude heard 
with indifference the solemn words of life and of death, of 
heaven and of hell. Some smiled at his earnestness ; others 
ridiculed and scorned ; and because they would not take 
warning and j3ee the wrath to come he wept in secret for 
them. And those who hearkened to his words and yielded 
submission to the claims of God, often filled him with 
anxieties, and caused him to wet his pillow with midnight 
tears. For behold their friendships were fickle, their piety 
unstable, and they loathed the descending manna because 
they lusted after the grosser meats of base appetites ; and 
after they had been a while in the green pastures and along 
the pleasant streams of salvation, they went back and '' walked 
no more with Jesus." All this afflicted the pastor's heart, 
and he cried — ^'0! that my head were waters and mine 
eyes fountains of tears, that I might weep day and night for 
the slain of the daughter of my people." Faithful ones there 
were who sympathised with his w^ork, and who stood around 
him and ministered like Aarons and Hurs ; but these knew but 
few of the pressures and conflicts of the man of God. Afflic- 
tion and poverty both did their oflSce in weaning his affections 
" from the things that are seen, and causing him to cast the 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 121 

anchor of his hope within the veil as the only place where 
they shall neither hunger nor thirst ; where there are neither 
pains nor tears, and where the inhabitant shall no more say I 
am sick. Well do I remember a faithful, godly man, whom 
I was accustomed to hear in my childhood declare the un- 
searchable riches of Christ. Age and want came with their 
infirmities and cares ; and because his tongue was no longer 
like the pen of a ready writer, and there were itching ears 
and fastidious hearers, the venerable minister became a 
burden, and his voice could no longer charm the dull ear. 
After a little manoeuvring and hesitation, it was concluded 
that he should be dismissed. He was duly informed that he 
could no longer preach for the people who had grown up 
under his service. Penniless and infirm, he was thrown out 
to be cared for as the fowls of the air, " which neither sow 
nor reap, nor gather into barns." The blow was too severe 
for the feebleness of age, and God in mercy permitted him 
to become the second time a child. And often did he wander 
to the sanctuary whose doors had been closed against him, and 
there he sat by the gate of the temple and wept away his hour, 
and then returned to his cheerless home. Sometimes he 
would lose himself; and often did I direct his wandering 
footsteps into the way that led to his home ; and when assured 
that he was in the right road, with a countenance beaming 
with kindness he would dismiss me, saying, '^ God bless you, 
dear boy." But after a few years thus spent, the Lord 
brought his pilgrimage to a close, for He took him, and we 
were invited to follow his remains to the sepulchre. Well 
11 



122 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

do I remember that solemn occasion ; for although a mere 
lad, the scene made such an impression upon my mind that it 
is vividly before me even now. The words of the preacher 
came with thrilling power, as he pointed to that coffin which 
contained the shrouded form of the holy man, and said, ''He 
being dead yet speaketh." Ah, yes! he spoke even then to 
many a heart. Lessons long forgotten and unimproved, which 
had been uttered by those lips sealed by death, rose to the 
mind with an urgency and force they never had before. 
Years have passed away ; my childhood is gone, and the flight 
of time has carried me far in the race of life ; but the vener- 
able form of that holy man is ever present as a faithful 
monitor, and that coffin has ever since been a silent but 
eloquent preacher to my soul. Blessed servant of Jesus, thou 
art at rest ; thy conflicts are over, and thy soul has found 
repose. May I be as faithful as thou hast been ; and if a 
mysterious but wise Providence should ordain for me as it 
did for thee, want, sickness, age, and the loss of friends 
whose graves are not dug, yea, even exclusion from the public 
altars of religion, may I be faithful, humble, submissive, and 
trustful, that with thee I may wear the crown after death has 
released me from the cross. 

The sepulchre also holds the precious dust of the children 
of affliction. The physician and the minister of religion are 
perhaps the only persons who have any considerable know- 
ledge of the amount of suffering and distress in human 
society. Their mission is often to those who are pining 
away in sorrow, unknown and uncared for by the masses of 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 123 

men. The vocation of the minister brings him in contact 
with the great, the rich, and the poor, and conducts him 
through all the walks of humble and exalted life. He 
is sometimes found in the stately mansion, but oftener in the 
humble retreats of poverty: and sometimes he finds the rich 
and the great restless and unhappy when stretched upon beds 
of down, though under the most skilful treatment and 
ministered to by gentle hands. And what discontent, what 
murmurs often rise from those, whether rich or poor, who are 
seldom indisposed, and whose few days of illness are so 
impatiently borne, that it is a relief to all their attendants 
when they are again able to leave the chamber of affliction ! 
It is not of those I would speak, as persons who look to the 
sepulchre as the end of their conflicts and trials : I might 
relate many affecting and instructive incidents which have 
fallen under my notice ; but, as it is not my purpose to crowd 
these pages with any more examples than are simply sufficient 
to illustrate the caption of this chapter, I will introduce but 
one more to the reader, whose history cannot fail to engage 
his attention. In the commencement of my ministry I was 
settled among a plain but interesting people ; among the first 
with whom I formed an acquaintance was an aged lady, who 
had then already been painfully afflicted for eight or nine 
years. I soon discovered that she was an humble child of 
God, and a quiet and patient sufferer. She was almost 
entirely helpless, and dependent upon a devoted and amiable 
daughter for such attentions as she might need by day and 
by night. She anticipated the wants of her mother, and 



124 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

soothed her in her sorrows as well as she could. For the 
space of ten years were my visits and ministrations continued 
to the dwellers in that humble but delightful home. They 
lived in a neat little cottage w^hich stood a short distance from 
the public road, almost hid by trees and covered with the ivy 
and the honey-suckle. Although they enjoyed the comforts 
of life they had not the abundance and luxuries of the rich. 
But there was peace and contentment ; and over her frugal 
board that afflicted mother uttered the prayer of another — 
" all this, and Jesus Christ too." To my inquiries about her 
health she answered meekly and wdth holy resignation. 
"My sufferings," she would say, ''are nothing compared 
with those which my dear Saviour endured for me. And 
then there are many others who have not the com.forts that I 
have, nor this blessed Bible, nor such kind children and 
neighbors. And then my trials will all end, and I hope it 
may please the Lord to take me to heaven when he sees that 
it is enough ; and until then he will give me grace to bear my 
afflictions." Although her pains often held her waking 
during the night, she would add, '' I can bear them a little 
better to-day." And often, while her countenance w^as radiant 
with joy as we spoke of Jesus, and our pilgrimage and future 
home, her anguish of body w^ould send forth involuntary 
groans. When conscious that she betrayed signs of distress 
she would check herself, and with an effort suppress the rising 
sigh. ! what grace was needed ; and what a hold she 
must have had upon God, and what a large measure of the 
spirit of the Lamb of God, that she could be so fully resigned 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 125 

to the will of heaven as she looked out for years from her 
cottage window upon a landscape so beautiful ; so full of life 
and health, and herself experience no spring-time of renewed 
strength. But she never murmured. There is no spot on 
earth which I remember with more pleasure ; none w^here I 
learned so much the value of the gospel ; and none where I 
saw those Christian graces, humility, patience, and resignation 
to the Divine will, shine with such a heavenly lustre. It was 
good to be there. And there was no place during my ministry 
among that people where I enjoyed a more sensible nearness 
to God, or had a richer foretaste of the blessed realities of 
heaven, than in that little cottage. Although none of the 
great of the earth visited her humble dwelling, God and his 
angels cheered that home with their presence. Sweet were 
those seasons of communion, when I broke to her the bread 
of life and gave her the cup of blessing ; and blessed are the 
memories of those occasions. After a period of incessant and 
painful suffering, of about twenty years, the good Lord took 
his servant home. A letter from her daughter, who was her 
faithful attendant through all her suffering, announcing her 
death to us, says she died " sweetly and calmly as the 
closing day." Earnestly had she longed for the repose of the 
sepulchre, but patiently did she w^ait for her appointed time ; 
and now, delivered from her conflicts, she has passed from 
her tw^enty years of suffering into an eternity of joy. Dearly 
beloved one, I mourn thee as my fond and faithful friend, 
and rejoice with thee that thou hast overcome, and now 
wearest the crown of life. The book of God will show what 
11* 



126 IN THE SEPULCHRE 

blessings descended upon me and my family, and upon my 
ministry through your prayers. For as a fountain in the 
wilderness unobserved sends up its vapors, which empty 
themselves upon the thirsty plain, so did thy prayers rise like 
holy and acceptable incense into the presence of Jehovah, 
and return in refreshing showers of grace upon the heritage 
of God. But thy days of weariness and thy nights of anguish 
are over ; thy poor afflicted body shall know no more pain ; 
thy worn and weary spirit shall no more sigh in exile from 
heaven. 

<< Calm on the bosom of thy God 

Fair spirit ! rest thee now, 
Even while with us thy footsteps trode, 

His seal was on thy brow, 
Dust to its narrow house beneath, 

Soul to its place on high ! 
They that have seen thy look in death, 

No more may fear to die." 

Yes, in the peaceful grave our labors, our conflicts, and 
trials shall all end. Up, then, ye desponding expectants of 
heaven ! gird up your loins and be panoplied with the armor 
of faith, and weather the storm, for it will soon have spent 
itself or landed you on the bright shores of a happy eternit)^ 
Behold ! even now are those clouds of dark calamity spanned 
by the bow of promise — they are rolling off', and eternal sun- 
shine win soon flash around you; for a cloudless day of glory 
will be the inheritance of all '' who wait for thy salvation, ! 
God." Up, then, ye downcast under a weight of suffering, 
and make Christ your example and your refuge. Under the 
pressure of a load that would have crushed the universe, he 



THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE END. 127 

says, ^' the cup which my father hath given me, shall I not 
drink it ?" Lift up your eyes from the gloom of your chamber, 
the wreck of your hopes and your friendships, and say with the 
Master, "Father, thy will be done." For what are even 
twenty or more years, of keen and unceasing anguish, during 
which shock after shock is felt, which sends tremors of pain 
quivering through every fibre of our frame — and wave after 
w^ave rolls over our heads, if meekly endured, and we are 
*' exercised thereby in righteousness ;" they will be succeeded 
by rapturous glory. One moment in heaven will be worth a 
whole lifetime of affliction. And as the flowing fountain is 
prized most by him w^ho comes panting from the burning 
desert — and food and rest are most grateful to him who has 
journeyed over a long and rugged path, so wnll the fouutain 
of living waters be the more refreshing, and eternal rest all 
the sweeter to the spirit that has grown worn and weary on 
a long and painful road. Tempted, suffering soul, cling then 
to the cross, and cast the anchor of your hope fast by the 
throne of God, and your frail, weather-beaten bark will 
not only outride the storm, but finally sweep into the haven 
of endless peace amid the shouts and hosannahs of the 
redeemed. 



CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

AT THE SEPULCHRES OF OUR DEPARTED WE 
MAY LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 



*' Life is before ye ; from the fated road 
Ye cannot turn ; then take ye up the load. 
Not your's to tread, or leave the unknown way ; 
Ye must go o'er it, meet ye what ye may ; 
Gird up your souls within you to the deed ; 
Angels and fellow-spirits bid you speed ! 
What though the brightness wane, the pleasure fade, 
The glory dim ! oh, not of these is made 
The awful life that to your trust is given, 
Children of God! Inheritors of heaven!'* 



O, Life ! thou etliereal, intangible something, what art 
thou ? To us thou art known only in the emblems of thy 
frailty. Thou art like the springing grass, " in the morning 
it groweth up, and in the evening it is cut down and wither- 
eth." Thou art like the vapor which floats a moment on the 
wind and then vanishes into air. How shall we think and 
speak of thee, so that we may rightly understand thy worth .^ 
Thou art beautiful or sad ; thou art bright or sullen ; thou art 
loved or loathed ; thou art on the swift wing of the dove, or 
travelest snail-like, just as our condition fits or disposes us 
to view thee in one or the other of those countless hues with 

(128) 



AT THE SEPULCHRES, ETC. 129 

which our ever-varying state invests thee. To the wretched 
thou appearest as a starless night swept by storms and 
tempests ; to the youthful and the happy thou art like a bird 
from paradise, scattering sweet odors from thy wings, making 
their path beautiful and fragrant. What shall we call thee ? 
Thou art — 

" A flower that doth "with opening morn arise, 
And flourishing the day, at evening dies ; 
A winged eastern blast, just skimming o'er 
,The ocean's brow, and sinking on the shore ; 
A fire whose crackling flames through stubble fly, 
A meteor shooting from the summer sky; 
A bowl adown the bending mountains roU'd, 
A bubble breaking, and a fable told ; 
A noontide shadow, and a midnight dream. 
Are emblems which with semblance apt proclaim 
Our earthly course.'* 

Such imagery fitly represents the fleeting character of our 
present life ; and yet, uncertain and transient as it is, the 
interests of two worlds are pressed within its limits, and all 
the blessings or woes which eternity has in store for the soul 
are gathered within the brief space of our existence in the 
flesh. And while a thousand incidents around us admonish 
us of the shortness of our stay on earth, and those high con- 
siderations which lay hold on eternal ages demonstrate to us 
the priceless worth of passing moments, and the ambassadors 
of Christ ring in our ears the words of the Master, " work 
while it is day, for the night cometh in w^hich no man can 
work," there is no place where we are more deeply impressed 
with the value of life than at the sepulchres of our departed. 
For here a voice, solemn and thrilling, rises from out the 



130 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

Stillness of that tomb in which they moulder, saying, ^^ What- 
soever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might ; for 
there is no w^ork, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in 
the grave whither thou goest." It inculcates lessons of 
industry ; and industry is essential to advancement in 
temporal and spiritual things. But this admonition has more 
particular reference to our moral preparation for another 
world ; as if it said, whatsoever remains to be done in rela- 
tion to your personal salvation, do it quickly. If. repentance 
has been deferred, delay it no longer, for there may be but a 
step between thee and the grave. Smitten in our original 
head, the whole race is corrupt and divorced from the joys 
of God's favor and a holy immortality. ^' From the crown 
of the head to the soles of the feet there are wounds and 
bruises, and putrefying sores." The whole man, w^ith all his 
faculties and powers, has iDeen swept with the blight and 
desolation of moral death. There is no seed of life in the 
unregenerate heart ; and no immortal hopes grow spontane- 
ously in the human soul. Fallen from God and cut off from 
heaven, there is no help in us ; for we are destitute of those 
resources which are absolutely necessary to make us new 
creatures. And unless the hand of Omnipotence lifts us out 
of that horrible pit into w^hich sin has cast us, and our feet 
out of the miry clay of inward corruptions, and places us 
upon the Rock and establishes our goings, our mouth will 
never be filled with the new song of salvation and praise to 
our God. For " he that believeth not the Son shall not see 
life; but the wrath of God abideth on him." If we are 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 131 

still unconverted we have yet a great work to perform, and 
one which it is not wise to delay a single moment. God 
cries to us widi earnest solicitude, " To-day if you will hear 
my voice harden not your hearts." The duty of this prepa- 
ration presses with tremendous urgency ; for as death finds 
us we will remain through all the revolving cycles of eternity. 
Heaven once lost, is lost forever! And while the unseen 
arrows of the destroyer fly thickly and fatally around us, and 
our moments are on the wing, the magnitude and weight of 
those great interests beyond the grave surely demand imme- 
diate attention. 

Withdraw not then thy mind from those considerations of 
the brevity and value of life which cluster around the tomb, 
until thy soul has bowed in deep abasement and unreserved 
submission to that God who holds your breath, and whose dis- 
pleasure could send you this moment uncheered into the grave, 
and hopeless into a dread eternity. Go, kneel by the 
mouldering remains of your cherished ones, and there, all help- 
less and destitute of power to form your soul anew, look away 
from your feebleness unto Him '^ w^io is mighty to save, 
even to the uttermost, all them that come unto God through 
Him," and turn from all human helpers to a crucified 
Redeemer '^ who is made unto us, wdsdom, righteousness, 
sanctification, and complete redemption." Yes, look to 
Calvary and fix your trust upon that crimson flood which 
gushes from the wounded Lamb, until a living faith forms 
the vital bond of union between you and the source of life 
and salvation, and you can rejoice in the hope of the glory 



132 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

of God. For, as the Israelites in the wilderness, when 
stung by fiery serpents, would have perished had they looked 
at their wounds only, and not at the brazen serpent which 
Moses had elevated as the divinely ordained means of their 
healing, so the soul stung by sin is never restored to spiri- 
tual health until it looks away from its wounds, and its 
prayers and its tears, to the only hope of perishing sinners, 
Jesus crucified. Then, and then only will he experience the 
inflowings of a new life, and rejoice in a conscious renova- 
tion of his nature. And, adopting the language of Paul, he 
will triumphantly exclaim, '^ I am crucified unto the world, 
nevertheless I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; and 
the life which I now live, I live by faith on the Son of God 
who loved me, and gave himself for me." 

But if you have been begotten unto a lively hope, and your 
faith has placed you in fellowship with the Father and the 
Son, as a Christian, you have many and urgent duties to 
discharge, and to you does the sepulchre also say, What- 
soever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might. Have 
you a family? Then, there you have an important field to 
cultivate. It must be guarded from blighting and desolating 
winds, and kept free from all briars and thorns, that you may 
contemplate with joy your home as a garden ornamented 
with flowers, and fragrant with the odors of love. Those 
children are to be instructed — their minds enriched with 
lessons of wisdom, and their hearts peopled with kind feel- 
ings and benevolent affections. Patience, industry, prudence 
and perseverance must all unite in this work. The artist 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 133 

who sits down to a block of marble does not, by one blow 
of the hammer and one touch of the chisel, cause it to leap 
out into the symmetrical statue which is to immortalize his 
name ; but months and years of application of his skill and 
toil are needed to give that statue a place in the cabinet, and 
draw around it admiring crowds. And it is not by one 
good lesson, but by often repeated precepts and long and 
laborious culture, that the character of the child is so 
fashioned as to charm amongst men and to be admired 
by angels. Patiently sits the painter to his task ; and only 
after many strokes of his pencil you shall behold the rough 
outlines of human features ; and only after many delicate 
touches are given does the canvass glow with the form of 
beauty, and look life-like and breathing. And it is only 
when we address ourselv^es to the work with the determina- 
tion that we will accomplish it, even if our efforts are 
stretched through years, that we shall succeed in imprinting 
the graces of virtue upon the characters of our children. 
Daily instructions, accompanied with the force of an example 
which corresponds with our precepts, are needed to make 
our offspring intelligent and holy. I knew two neighbors, 
who, on a spring morning, obtained from a friefnd each a 
scion of a valued tree, and they both returned to their homes 
rejoicing. Each planted his precious shoot. But the one care- 
lessly and unwdsely placed it in a rocky soil, and after refresh- 
ing it once or twice with water, suffered it to grow as best it 
could. And it was not long before it drooped and died, and! 
his labor was lost, and his hope disappointed. But the other 
12 



134 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

more wisely selected good soil by the side of a living brook, 
and tenderly set his plant in the ground. I saw him lay soft 
earth around the delicate fibres of its roots, and he gave it a 
support that the winds might not disturb it until it had 
acquired slrength to stand : and it grew, and its boughs 
expanded, and the fowls of heaven came and made music in 
its branches, and it yielded pleasant fruit, and all that passed 
by said, behold how beautiful and good! And so have I 
seen a precious child, a gift from the Lord, planted in the 
hard and barren soil of unbelief, where no prayer softened it, 
where no dews of grace descended to bless and fructify; 
and that tender plant, tossed by the breath of sin and 
shaken by the storms of profanity, soon had its innocence 
withered and its beauty blighted, and it stood as a blasted 
tree without comeliness or fruit, and I wept and passed on. 
But I came to another, who, at the same time, had brought 
to him by an angel a sprig from the tree of life, and I 
wondered how I should find that child which he had 
received with trembling. And behold, he had restrained 
it from the way of the ungodly, and kept it from the seat 
of the scornful, and caused it to delight in the law of the 
Lord, and made the streams which gladden the city of God 
flow around it ; and lo ! it grew, and God delighted in it, 
and in its presence the tears of helpless orphanage forgot to 
flow, and widowed hearts sang around it for joy. Great 
indeed is the work and fearful the responsibility \vhich 
devolves upon parents. A work which should be commenced 
even before our offspring are born, and not remitted until 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 135 

they have entered heaven. It is while the rivulet 
warbles its faintest song that we may form its subsequent 
broad and peaceful current. If in its early outflows it is left 
to seek its own channel, it will wind its way into gloomy 
forests, and flow by serpents' nests and gather in their venom ; 
or it will expand into the marsh and become a stagnant pool 
whose noxious vapors will breed the pestilence ; or it will 
dash and foam over shelving rocks until its angry current is 
lost in the abyss of the ocean. It is thus with the life of the 
infant child: control it while its passions are weak, and its 
corruptions slumber; direct the out-goings of its soul towards 
God, and as it grows in stature and in spirit, " its peace will 
be like a river and its righteousness as the waves of the sea." 
Early acquaint it with its sinfulness, and gently draw upon it 
the moulding hand of the Saviour. In the morning of life 
put forth your exertions for its salvation — pray with it and 
for it, for it is while the clay is impressible and yielding that 
the potter forms his vessel. And forget not to keep your life 
unspotted from the world and clothed with holiness, that it 
may see imaged in you all the graces of lofty virtue. The 
pearl which reflects the colors of the rainbow also has the 
power of imparting this property to the white wax which 
is pressed firmly upon it, and in like manner has the 
Christian character the power of impressing the pliable 
nature of childhood with all the excellencies for which it is 
distinguished. Those who are the constant witnesses of our 
conduct from their earliest years, are insensibly, but so 
effectually assimilated to our character, that in all that 



136 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

constitutes the life of the child the parent re-appears before 
the world. This transmission of character extends to such a 
degree that the manners, the bearings and intonations of 
voice in the offspring are readily recognized as those which 
were known in the parent. Parents of immortals, do we live 
as immortals? Are our affections, our thoughts, and our 
hopes manifestly tending heavenward and circling around 
the Eternal Throne ? ! how necessary it is to make those 
around us feel what we profess to realize, that here we 
have no continuing city, but seek one to come. And not 
only has the Christian parent an immense \vork to do in 
training his children and household for heaven, but the work 
of his personal salvation, however far it may have advanced, 
is never complete this side of the sepulchre. ''The path 
of the just is as a shining light which shineth more and more 
until the perfect day." High as he may have ascended on 
the mount of excellence, there are other heights to be scaled ; 
and the command is, onw^ard, onward, until the glory of the 
earthly is blended with the glory of the heavenly. 

There is a work for all to do in the vineyard of Christ. 
The third and the ninth hour may already be passed, and 
even the eleventh hour may be partly spent, while the cry of 
the master is still heard, " Why stand ye here all the day 
idle?" For it is possible that, although a member of the 
church and a regular attendant on the ministrations of the 
sanctuary, and contributing to the wealth and respectability 
of the congregation, a man may not have added any thing to 
the moral weight and spiritual interests of the flock with 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 137 

which he is connected. And if such be the case, he has not 
yet discharged those duties which rank first in importance in 
the life of a Christian. Your minister, the congregation, and 
above all your Saviour, has a right to expect, and He does 
demand, such a consecration of your being to His service, and 
such a standard of piety, that others may '' take knowledge 
of you that you have been with Jesus and learned of Him." 
Others should be able to perceive without the pains of a 
careful observation, that you are thoroughly identified with 
the cause and Author of Christianity. There should be such 
visible fruits of an operative faith as to leave no room for the 
shadow of a doubt as to your personal interest in the great 
salvation. A branch on the vine, if it retains a healthy 
connection with the parent stem, will be loaded with 
delicious fruit. It is certainly required of a disciple to 
establish an elevated Christian character, that he may in 
reality be '' as a city set on a hill," and as a light shining in 
a dark w^orld. His deportment and example should be of 
such a pure and elevated form that those younger in years 
may safely copy them. He should be a pattern of virtue 
and benevolence, that even '^ when the places that know him 
now shall know him no more forever," he may fulfil a 
mission of mercy by his posthumous influence ; and that, 
when his voice no longer mingles in the songs of the earthly 
Zion, and others occupy the place now filled by him, he may 
live in their affections, and by the recollections of his 
devotion to the service of God, stimulate them to labors of 
charity and to the attainment of an exalted piety. 
12* 



138 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

But, as a member of the social state, and particularly as 
the head of a household, the Christian should inquire 
whether his business is arranged in such a manner as would 
enable him to go to his reward w^ithout regret, and at a 
moment's warning. '' Set thy house in order, for thou shalt 
die and not live," was the message which the prophet of the 
Lord brought to Hezekiah. Set thy house in order, we 
would say to all who are expectants of heaven. Have all 
things in a proper condition, that if death comes at a period 
least expected, it may find you in a waiting and prepared 
attitude. Very painful and melancholy consequences are 
sometimes witnessed in the families of those who had made 
no provision for a sudden departure from this world. For 
scarcely w^re their bodies consigned to the grave before 
strife and litigation commenced, which grew in violence 
until the tenderest bonds were ruptured, and a whole family 
thrown into anarchy, and hearts once joined in holy love 
were alienated from each other, and never after met but in 
jarrings, criminations, and recriminations. So that even the 
memory of a father was not pleasantly cherished ; forasmuch 
as, through his negligence rightly to adjust his worldly affairs, 
the happiness of his family w^as destroyed. And a proper 
arrangement every year of that business which so many defer 
to the final hour, will by no means hasten your end, nor will 
it make you melancholy, to write your own testament while 
in health. And not only is it the most fitting time, while 
in the vigor of health, to have a care to this business, but it 
will leave you calmer and your mind freer from care in that 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 139 

solemn hour when your spirit is to take its flight to the bosom 
of God ; — an hour which should not be burdened with any 
w^orldly anxieties or business, but should be emphatically an 
hour to die, and therefore not have the communion of the 
soul with God disturbed by earthly transactions. For what 
interest can we then feel in houses and lands, and large 
estates, when nothing appears momentous or great but those 
eternal realities which come thronging around the mind, and 
into which we shall then enter. ! my God, suffer not my 
last hour to be filled with the cares of this world, nor with 
the adjustment and disposal of those blessings which thou 
hast bestowed! Is it not enough that such a large proportion 
of my life has been devoted to the acquisition of wealth, or 
other creature goods, so that my very last moments must be 
offered at some other shrine than Thine ? No ! I will so 
order my life, and so command and shape my businCvSS, that 
when the harbingers of death commence their work of 
demolition upon this house of clay, that thou, blessed God, 
may est fill that hour with thy gracious presence ; that my 
soul may calmly and sweetly sink into thee, the Parent of 
my being, as the drop loses itself in the ocean. 

Again would I ask, have you done all you purpose doing 
for the extension of Christ's kingdom in the earth ? If not, 
then what you design doing, do with thy might. What 
interest do you feel in the great conflict which is now raging 
between light and darkness? Has the love of Christ not 
only restored you to your lost dignity, but also so elevated 
your conceptions and expanded the sympathies of your soul 



140 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

that they rise above all those barriers of sectarianism, and 
have become so truly Christian and catholic as to gather 
within their embrace the whole family of man ? Have you 
attained that spiritual exaltation which enables you to look 
over this wide world where this conflict is now progressing, 
that wherever you see the sacramental host of God fighting 
the battles of the Lord, under w^hatever banner, so that you^ 
see the beaming star of Bethlehem and the stripes of Calvary 
upon it, you can pray for and rejoice in their success ? This 
may all be true of you ; for the friends of Jesus cannot look 
with indifference on the present state of the world ; but are 
not purposes maturing in your mind W'hich w^ould, if con- 
summated, greatly contribute to the advancement of the 
Redeemer's kingdom? For it is scarcely presumable that 
any Christian who has largely shared in the benefactions of a 
merciful Providence, has not also determined upon an 
appropriation of at least a considerable amount of that which 
he has been permitted to acquire, to the furtherance and 
building up of Christ's empire on earth. And such a 
recognition of the divine agency in his prosperity, and such 
an acknowledgment of the goodness of that unseen hand 
which has placed him among the princes and nobles of the 
land, would assuredly be the legitimate offspring of a heart 
renew^ed by the Holy Ghost and animated with a Saviour's 
love. That there is great need for such offerings must be 
manifest to all w^ho take time to consider the organized forces 
of evil w^hich are every where arrayed against Christianity. 
Never since the advent of the Saviour have such exertions 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 141 

been made, and such instrumentalities pressed into the 
service of the kingdom of darkness to undermine and 
subvert the kingdom of heaven. The enemies of the cross 
are besetting us on all sides, and are carrying on their war- 
fare openly or secretly, as they may judge best suited to 
advance their cause. See you not what innumerable garbs 
they have assumed, under which to propagate their principles ? 
Where the deformities of infidelity would shock the moral 
sense of a community, and repel, rather than attract the 
multitude to its standard, the enemy is clothed in the guise 
of science, and labors to bring its deductions into conflict 
with the revealed word of God. They have presumed to 
lay open to the popular gaze the immensity of the universe, 
and from the innumerable systems, and the magnitude of the 
frame-work of creation, have labored to prove that the 
infinite Jehovah, whose dominions are boundless, could not 
have any solicitude for man, who, in comparison with the 
orbs which people immensity, is less than an atom to the sun, 
and therefore beneath the notice of the Supreme Being. And 
hence they would infer that the scheme of redemption is a 
fiction ; forasmuch, as it is not probable that He who is the 
architect of this stupendous materialism would humble him- 
self to the condition of man. Forgetting, or designedly 
avoiding, what would be a paradox to their conclusions, that 
God, so far from being exclusively occupied with his larger 
tcreation, has given us as many and even more wonderful 
illustrations of his wisdom, goodness, and care, in the ani- 
mated world, which lies as far beneath man as man lies 



142 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

beneath the dignity of angels. For, when we attentively 
examine that world of life which the microscope reveals to 
the eye, and see that all are provided with sustenance suited 
to their nature, and supported in their brief existence and 
made happy by that same Almighty Being whose energy 
controls, and whose glory shines through all the universe ; 
and when we further consider that each one of the myriads 
of insects is instinct with a life of w^hich God is the author 
and preserver, it would be difficult to say whether God '' is 
greater in the world above us, or in the world beneath us." 
And until the advocates of infidelity can conclusively demon- 
strate that the sustaining power and preserving mercy of God 
do not extend to all things, even to the minutest objects 
wdthin the wide limits of creation, their assertions have no 
basis on which to rest, and their deductions are without force, 
when they would reason out of existence the plan of redemp-^ 
tion on the ground of man's insignificance, in comparison 
with the vastness of Jehovah's empire. It is, moreover, in 
harmony with all our conceptions of the infinite mind, that 
it comprehends within its notice and care, the least, as well 
as the greatest object within the limits of its range. They 
have also gone down into the bowels of the earth, and 
attempted to bring from its structure such proofs as should 
invalidate the records of creation ; so that philosophy, litera- 
ture, philanthropy, and even the hallowed name of religion, 
all are made vehicles for the dissemination of error and of 
vice. No difficulties, however formidable, deter them, no 
labors, however arduous, are withheld from this work of cor- 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 143 

ruption. Brilliant talents are prostituted to this cause, and 
wealth is freely poured out at the shrines of infidelity. to 
further its unhallowed objects. They press it into all the 
relations of life, social, political, and religious, and, like 
serpents, stealthily throw their hnmense coils around the 
unsuspecting, and bind the souls of their victims with im- 
mortal woes. It would seem incredible to those who are not 
familiar with these efforts, upon what a formidable scale the 
kingdom of darkness is organized over all the civilized world. 
It seems as though the bottomless pit w^as billowing up its 
foulest ingredients from its deep abysses, and pouring them 
out in thousands of channels, blighting with desolation and 
death, immortal minds. The very earth groans under ini- 
quities ! All the infidel works, and licentious novels, and books 
professing to be scientific, are translated into all the tongues 
spoken by man, and offered gratuitously to those who will 
not purchase. I ask then, in view of these facts, can a 
Christian, identified as he is w^ith all the interests of the 
Redeemer's cause, be indifferent to these things ? Not if 
his heart is right with God — not if he loves his country, and 
is concerned to transmit to coming posterity the blessings 
of civil and religious freedom — not if he would be guiltless 
of the blood of souls in the day of reckoning. And it is 
gratifying to know that there are many disciples of Christ in 
the various departments and pursuits of human life, who are 
alive to their responsibilities to God and mankind, and who 
have not only sounded the alarm from the senate chamber, 
from the bench, and from the pulpit, but whose intellectual 



144 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

and moral energies are consecrated to the work of the world's 
regeneration. There are many occupied in efforts to neutral- 
ize those demoralizing influences which are flowing through 
a thousand channels upon society, and to turn back to their 
fountain those streams of pollution w^hich threaten to flood 
the land. Blessed be God, that among our statesmen there 
are those who cherish the Christian religion, and who regard 
virtue and intelligence as the only durable pillars of our 
Republic. Thanks to Him who disposes the hearts of men, 
that He has linked the minds of our most prominent citizens 
with all those great moral enterprises which have for their 
object the elevation and salvation of man. And should not 
every disciple of the Son of God put the solemn question to 
his conscience; have I done all that is required of me to 
advance the conquests of the cross ? Am I making such a 
disposition of my talents, my influence, and ray wealth, as 
will be approved in the day of judgment? Have I done all 
that I design doing to exalt my Saviour in the earth, and to 
enlarge his dominion among men? 0! my soul, it was a 
great ransom which was paid for thee in the groans and the 
blood of Jesus ; and is it not fit that all thy faculties should 
cheerfully bend to the work of saving others from guilt and 
ruin ? Ay, is it not the highest glory and value of life to 
devote it to that cause which is destined to recover this world 
from the dominion of sin, and fill it with the knowledge of 
God ? 

It is perhaps in your heart, beloved reader, as it was in the 
heart of David, to manifest your love to God, and your grati- 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 145 

tude for his mercies, by building him a temple for the 
worship of His name. Or you have purposed to endow- 
some institution, and to enrich the Bible and the Missionary 
Societies of our land with your legacies ; or you intend to 
relieve the congregation to which you belong of a heavy 
pressure which cripples its prosperity ? Whatsoever it may 
be that you design doing, '^ do it with thy might," and do it 
quickly. In one of our large cities there lived, a few years 
ago, a gentleman who had been wonderfully prospered by 
Providence. He had amassed immense wealth, and upon 
retiring from the scenes of an active business life he prayer- 
fully considered what disposition he should make of his gains. 
He was a man who feared God, and gratefully acknowledged 
his goodness by his many charities to the poor and his 
frequent contributions to benevolent objects. But he wisely 
inferred from his ow^n history, that human nature needs 
discipline if it is to unfold in high-toned moral character ; and 
while he intended to grant a liberal provision to his heirs, he 
did not wish to make them indolent, nor assist them in 
becoming degenerate by the influence of too much w^ealth. 
He accordingly resolved to appropriate a considerable portion 
to various benevolent purposes. The Seamen's Friend Society 
was to receive $5000 ; a fund of $10,000, subject to the 
control of a number of trustees, to be named in his will, was 
to assist poor mechanics to set up their business. An orphan 
asylum w^as to receive the interest of $5000; the Bible 
Society was put down for $3000 ; and Home and Foreign 
Missions each $5000, together with a legacy of some thou- 
13 



146 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

sands to the congregation of which he was a member, and 
with which he had long and pleasantly worshipped. But as 
he was in the enjoyment of excellent health, and not far 
advanced in years, there seemed to be no pressing necessity 
for immediately concluding these bequests in a legal manner. 
Besides this, his wealth was increasing every day at a rate 
which would justify him, in a few years, in enlarging the 
amounts of these respective legacies, and perhaps including 
others in his benefactions. Months elapsed, until almost a 
year had expired from the time he had disclosed his purposes 
to a friend, and he continued in his usual health, and was 
cheerful and happy. One Sabbath morning he came to the 
sanctuary, and the pastor, with a view to improve the death 
of a youth who belonged to the congregation, but who had 
suddenly perished by the explosion of an ill-fated vessel, 
preached from the text — ''Boast not thyself of to-morrow, 
for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." The 
uncertainty of life was dwelt upon at considerable length, and 
enforced by the sudden and sad bereavement of a large circle 
of friends, and the congregation of one of its members. 
From the uncertainty of life he drew several impressive 
lessons of the value of life. And the loss which individuals, 
the world, and the soul may sustain by delaying that which 
persons have solemnly determined to do, was forcibly im- 
pressed upon his audience. " Many", said the preacher, 
''intend to repent, but the work is postponed from day to day 
for a more convenient season ; and while they delay sickness 
comes, death comes, and they are hurried away in then 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 147 

iniquities. Many purpose to discharge some Christian 
duty next week, or to-morrow, and behold death comes 
between them and the day fixed, and they go into eternity 
without accomplishing that which they meant to do before 
leaving this world." And after this manner he still further 
illustrated the value of life, and showed what stupendous 
interests frequently crowd themselves into an hour. As this 
gentleman was returning home from the church, he was silent 
and thoughtful. They had scarcely entered his house before 
he remarked to a friend, '' That was an impressive sermon we 
heard to-day." " Remarkably so," replied the one addressed, 
'^and I hope it will have a good effect upon the young." 
"And why," said the other, " should it not make a similar 
impression upon us all ? Is not life equally if not more un- 
certain to those of us more advanced in years ? ■ I, for my 
part, have deeply felt the truth of what was said, and some 
important matters upon which my heart is fixed shall be closed 
to-morrow,'''^ After some further remarks the conversation 
turned upon other topics, until the friends separated. Upon 
leaving, the gentleman who had been so much impressed by 
the discourse said to his friend, " Will you be so kind as to 
step in to-morrow about twelve o'clock and assist me in 
making some business arrangements?" " With great plea- 
sure," replied the other, as he cordially pressed his hand and 
departed. The day had worn away and the family were 
assembled to engage in their evening devotions. The father 
took his accustomed seat, opened the Bible, and read the 
nintieth Psalm : " Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place 



148 

in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, 
or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from 
everlasting to everlasting thou art God. Thou turnest man to 
destruction, and sayest. Return, ye children of men. For a 
thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is 
passed, and as a w^atch in the night. Thou carriest them away 
as with a flood — they are as a sleep in the morning; they are 
like grass which groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth and 
groweth up, in the evening it is cut down and withereth. For 
\ve are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we trou- 
bled. Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins 
in the light of thy countenance. For all our days are passed 
away in thy wrath : we spend our years as a tale that is told. 
The days of our years are three-score years and ten ; and if by 
reason of strength they be four-score years, yet is their strength 
labor and sorrow ; for it is soon cut off and we fly away. 
Who knoweth the power of thine anger ? even according to 
thy fear ; so is thy wrath. So teach us to number our days, 
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. Return, O 
Lord, how long? and let it repent thee concerning thy 
servants. O satisfy us early with thy mercy ; that we may 
rejoice and be glad all our days. Make us glad ac- 
cording to the days in which thou hast afflicted us, 
and the years wherein we have seen evil. Let thy w^ork 
appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children. 
And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us ; and 
establish thou the work of our hands upon us, yea the work 
of our hands establish thou it." 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 149 

They kneeled down, and the solemn discourse of the 
morning, and the touching and beautiful picture of human 
frailty drawn by the Psalmist, had such an influence upon 
his mind as caused him to pray with unusual fervor. After 
warm expressions of gratitude for life and all its blessings, 
and imploring the divine benediction upon his word, and 
commending himself and family to the care of a watchful 
Providence, he concluded with much earnestness and empha- 
sis in the language of the Psalm ; — '^ And let the beauty of 
the Lord our God be upon us ; and establish thou the work 
of our hands J yea the work of our hands establish thou it." 
It was the last prayer he ever offered at the family altar. 
Having retired without any apparent indisposition, all w^ere 
soon locked in slumbers of sweet repose. At midnight his 
wife was awakened by a cold pressure upon her face : it was 
her husband's hand, chilled by death. The next morning we 
read the following announcement in a paper : " Died sud- 
denly, on Sunday night, at his residence, the late « 

It is feared that the unexpected and sudden departure of this 
estimable citizen has deprived a number of benevolent 
establishments of some valuable legacies w^hich it was his 
intention to leave." These fears were sadly realized, as we 
have already seen that the time upon which he had fixed to 
give his intentions a legal form was twelve hours later than his 
death. What a solemn illustration does this incident furnish 
of the value of life! Here we have a good man w^hose heart 
was fixed for years on doing something handsome for the 
cause of God, and just on the eve of consummating his pur- 
13* 



150 AT THE SEPULCHRES, WE MAY 

poses he dies, without premonition or time to make his 
bequests. Who can estimate the loss which those societies 
sustained, and those persons who would have been blest w^ith 
their benevolence ! What an amount of misery might not 
these charities have reheved ! What blessings might have 
flown from them to the wretched and benighted ! But for 
this delay, (which in this instance seemed without danger), 
thousands of Bibles would have gone out on their glorious 
mission — many orphans would have found a home — many 
comforts would have been provided for the poor seamen, and 
thousands of immortal spirits now sitting in the region and 
shadow of death might rejoice in the light of Christianity, 
and hereafter mingle in the song of Moses and the Lamb. 
What a lesson does it convey to the living ! Let not death 
deprive you of your good intentions, while you have the 
power of embodying them in good deeds. 0, how valuable 
is life! and how much remains undone forever which men 
intended to accomplish, just because they do not properly 
estimate the value, the shortness, and the uncertainty of life ! 
And in nothing is the evil of this more frequently and sensibly 
felt, than with the cause of the Redeemer. A cause which 
should be first, but for which our benefactions are postponed 
to the closing scenes of life, and therefore in many instances 
lost to it altogether. Consult such records, or appeal to such 
testimony as will unfold the purposes of the departed, and 
you will find many painful illustrations of this truth. There 
is a mother who designed to consecrate her child to God in 
the holy ordinance of baptism, but the duty is deferred for 



LEARN THE VALUE OF LIFE. 151 

weeks and months, and she takes ill and dies, and that child 
grows up without having placed upon it the seal of the cove- 
nant, and without any bond of union with the visible kingdom 
of Jesus. There is a father who has long felt it his duty, and 
had formed the resolution to speak to his offspring about the 
interests of his soul, but he is suddenly cut off and the duty 
remains undischarged. There is a neighbor who has deter- 
mined to use his personal efforts to bring another into the 
kingdom of Christ, but while he is waiting for more favorable 
opportunities, one or the other is called to his account. 
There was not long since a young man w^ho had felt the 
operations of the Holy Spirit, and resolved to consecrate 
himself to the service of God. But as he had in contempla- 
tion a visit to some friends in another State, he concluded to 
postpone a public profession of religion until his return — 
'' It will only be a month," he said ; but death met him on 
the way, and he went to the grave before the period had 
expired. Alas, this delaying — what purposes, what hopes 
are doomed to perish because men do not set a proper value 
upon the present hour ! Were the sepulchre the goal of our 
existence as it is of the present life, and did it sw^allow up 
and consume all that pertains to the destiny of man, so that 
there would be no hereafter, then we might trifle with the 
golden moments that flit by us on swift \ving; but — 

'• Life is real, life is earnest, 

And the grave is not its goal ; 

Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 

Was not spoken of the soiil.^^ 



152 AT THE SEPULCHBES, WE MAY LEARN, ETC. 

No, that soul is immortal, and as there is an eternal 
future before us, filled with raptures or woes, it becometh all 
to set such a value on life as to improve it, that we may 
be fitted for the exalted destiny of the redeemed, and unite 
our present vanishing existence with the blessed realities of 
Life Eternal. 



CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS THE EVIL OF SIN. 



*' The other shape, — 
If shape it might be call'd — that shape had none, 
Distinguishable in member, joint or limb ; 
Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd ; 
For each seem'd either; black it stood as night, 
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, 
And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head, 
The likeness of a kingly crown had on. 
Satan was now at hand ; and from his seat 
The monster, moving onward, came as fast 
With horrid strides ; hell trembled as he strode.'* 



This sublime, but terrible, conception of sin by one of the 
world's most gifted poets, can scarcely be contemplated with- 
out feelings of horror. Its dreadful shadowy as it falls upon 
our path, fills the heart widi cold sensations. And yet, 
ghastly and fear-inspiring as it is, its truthfulness is, alas ! too 
painfully illustrated in the history of the universe and in 
human experience, to question for a moment the propriety 
of this representation of that malignant principle w^hich wars 
against the great interests of the s^oul, and w^hich is in violent 
conflict with all the laws of Jehovah's government. For 
while the genius of Milton was confessedly great, and his 

(153) 



154 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

imaginative powers of such a magnificent cast that all his 
images are of a gorgeous or gigantic character ; yet no one 
who has ever allowed his mind to dwell upon the manifold 
evils of sin, which appear even within the circle of his 
personal observation, will venture to affirm that this personi- 
fication of it is overdrawn or too darkly shaded. Its effects 
are as painful as they are manifest. They are so wide-spread 
as to cover the earth ; so deep that they billow up in hell ; and 
so penetrating that they send their writhing influence through 
all the members and faculties of our being. The illustrious 
author quoted seemed conscious of his inability to find an 
object, even Avithin the range swept by his imagination, \vhich 
w^ould fitly represent it, or give a full and life-like portrait of 
it ; and, therefore, he labors to combine an assemblage of 
the most horrible attributes, gathered from the dark and 
shadowy regions ; and even then are the outlines of the 
monster so dimly sketched, that he is obscurely seen ; while 
the conviction is present to the beholder that the reality is 
still more fearful than the picture. Alas ! what mind, though 
possessed of the most exalted capacities, could feel itself 
adequately strong and properly furnished to picture the 
parent of such a progeny as that w^ith which sin has peopled 
our world! It is only by a constant variation of the imagery, 
and by laying under tribute all the objects with which distress, 
pain, wo, and death are associated, that we learn a few^ of 
the many evils of sin. It is in itself an unmixed and 
unmitigated evil, and tarnishes the glory of every thing 
possessed of moral excellence with which it comes in con- 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 155 

tact. It is a disorganizing element, which has occasioned a 
sad breach in the universe of God. It casts indignity upon 
all the natural and moral perfections of the infinitely glorious 
Sovereign. It is at war with His holiness, justice and mercy; 
and breathes defiance against His omnipotence. It dishonors 
God in all his relations. As Creator it denies and comes in 
conflict with His right to the creatures whom He formed. 
As Legislator it rebels against His laws, and pours contempt 
upon their authority. And as the Father and Benefactor of 
the human family, sin has rendered His rightful subjects un- 
grateful, and implanted in their bosoms enmity instead of 
filial affection. It has introduced an element of disorder into 
the Divine government, and marred the glory of the universe. 
We behold its evil in the fall of '^ those angels who kept not 
their first estate, but left their own habitation, and who are 
reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judg- 
ment of the great day." What amazing ruin — w^hat fearful 
desolation would appal the mind, could it glance over that 
world where those dwell — 

" Whom the Almighty power 
Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky, 
With hideous ruin and combustion, down 
To bottomless perdition ; there to dwell 
In adamantine chains and penal fires." 

The ruins of a city constitute a mournful spectacle. To 
behold its noble palaces, its gorgeous temples, and its 
magnificent towers all turned into a mass of destruction, is a 
sight from the contemplation of w'hich we turn with sorrow. 
For painful, indeed, is it to see that site, w^here stood in 



156 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

lordly pride the finest specimens of architectural skill, 
covered with broken columns, partially-consumed gates, 
fragments of holy altars, and an air of desolation overspread- 
ing that scene of yesterday's gaiety ; — a desolation deepened 
by, the low moans of the dying storm which kindled the con- 
flagration, and the w^ail of the homeless and friendless, who 
linger with sad hearts around the smouldering pile which 
buried their all, and the mournful cooings of the mateless 
dove, whose brood and companion perished in the general 
wreck. It is a melancholy employment to contemplate the 
once beautiful land where shepherds guided their flocks by 
living streams, and w^here peace and beauty reigned, and an 
abundance of good filled all its borders, but which is now 
swept, and desolated, and scorched by the fire and sword of 
the ruthless destroyer. But no disasters, however terrible, 
and no calamities, however dark and withering, that have 
ever befallen kingdoms, or left their impress upon the fairer 
portions of this earth, can equal that work which sin w^rought 
on the fields of celestial light. And, however distressing it 
might be to w^itness the desolations which mark the track of 
the furious hurricane, or the path of a brutal and wasting 
army ; it is far more affecting and painful to contemplate 
angelic minds in ruins — to behold those mighty intellects, 
once sweeping in their range of thought over the wonders of 
the universe, and admiring the unveiled mysteries of Jehovah, 
now laboring with eternal w^oes ; and those immense capaci- 
ties which then overflowed with heaven's high raptures, now 
flaming with the WTath of God. Alas! what a change from 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 157 

glory to shame ; from light to darkness ; from the music of 
harps to that of chains ; and from exalted themes of praise 
to piteous groans of anguish ! And yet such are the effects 
which sin wrought upon those who once moved in cloudless 
splendor around the eternal throne, and mingled their notes 
with the hymns of Cherubim and Seraphim. 

But it is not our province so much to meditate upon the^ 
condition of fallen angels and upon the terrors of perdition, 
as to look from the sepulchre over the broad earth, and set 
forth the evils which sin has produced, and is still producing, in 
the human family. No sane person has ever yet attempted to 
deny the vicious and corrupt state of man. Voltaire, the 
great enemy of all good, and particularly of Christianity, 
says in Questions sur V Ency dope die : " The fall of degener- 
ate man is the foundation, of the theology of all the ancient 
nations." And the most distinguished sages of antiquity 
have uniformly recognized the fact of human depravity. In 
all the systems of religion which have been promulgated in 
this world, the corruption of the race in its original head has 
been more or less clearly set forth and acknowledged. 
Socrates and Plato, Pliny and Cicero, and many others of the 
illustrious of the distant past, have left traces in their writings 
of their belief in the fall of man. And that which has been 
in all ages painfully felt and dimly shadowed forth by those 
who w^ere dependent for their knowledge on the deductions 
of reason, has been ckarly revealed in the Bible. In that 
brief record in Genesis of man's first disobedience, we have, 
a true representation of the origin of our corruption. That 
14 



158 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

history needs no vindication ; for the narrative itself is, in the 
judgment of every impartial and judicious critic, its best 
defence. It wears neither the air of romance nor the studied 
guise of imposture. It is ch^^racterized by great simplicity ; 
yet clothed with such a sublime dignity that the statement of 
Moses constitutes a monument of truth, around which the 
voluntary testimony of all ages has been poured to corrobo- 
rate its declarations. For not only has humanity always felt 
that it was cut loose from the source of its existence, but it 
has been impelled by the force of internal wretchedness 
and desolation to make such efforts as its feeble resources 
would warrant, to restore its union with that invisible Power 
of life from which it w^as divorced, and through which alone 
man could be exalted to that state of happiness for which the 
soul was originally designed, and for which it incessantly 
yearned. And hence, all the mythologies of Egypt, of 
India, of Greece — yea, of all the Pagan nations, professed 
to furnish the means, and point out the way, in which the lost 
good might be recovered. And it could not be otherwise ; 
for the fact that a great change had taken place in the condi- 
tion of the race w^as indisputable; forasmuch as all men were 
conscious of those remains in their immortal natures which, 
like the broken columns of a palace, are witnesses of former 
greatness and grandeur now manifestly gone ; and this con- 
viction, in connection with the existence of an evil universal 
in its ravages and disorders, would necessarily everywhere 
bcf^-et desires that would mature into efforts for freedom 
from the dire calamities which rested upon mankind, and the 



^ THE EVIL OF SIN. 159 

recovery of the lost glory which clothed the inhabitants of 
Eden. Even now a voice cries out of the ruins of our 
nature, which, like unto that which seems to issue from the 
mouldering and w^asting frame in the sepulchre, speaks to us 
of perished strength and faded excellence. Call it what you 
will, intuition or tradition, the prevailing sentiment of the 
human family has ever been, and is still, that man came spot- 
less and perfect from the hands of his Maker. And this con- 
viction harmonizes most beautifully with the utterances of the 
inspired volume ; for it declares that '' man was created in 
the image of God." While he remained sinless he retained 
the Divine image, and stood in unison with the infinite foun- 
tain of life. When he sinned, that connection was broken, 
that union dissolved ; and his glory departed ; for the cause 
w^hich ruptured the bond of his alliance w^ith heaven at the 
same time struck him with death. From an immortal he 
became a mortal ; and from absolute holiness he passed into 
thorough depravity. And while his body was doomed to 
decay and destined to moulder back to the dust out of which 
it w^as formed, his intellectual and moral natures experienced 
the blighting and stunning effects of sin in all their faculties. 
It threw fetters upon the reasoning powders, so that their labor 
is arduous and difficult, while their deductions are often 
circuitous and doubtful. It perverted the judgment, so that 
its decisions are not made with absolute precision, but are 
frequently found to be fallacious. It warped and darkened 
the will, so that it chooses evil rather than good. It crippled 
the imagination, so that its flights are less adventurous, and 



160 THE SEPULCHRE PKOCLMMS 

its offspring less glowing. It clouiled and enfeebled con- 
science, so that, like an impotent and chained monarch still 
seated on the throne, its voice was no longer potent to com- 
mand submission to its authority within the empire over 
which it reigned ; and, therefore, the once beautiful and 
upright being w^ho stood at the head of creation, panoplied 
with the vestiture of sinless glory, w^as stripped of moral 
excellence. 

But the results of his transgression did not terminate in 
man ; for, as he w^as the living and connecting link betw^een 
God and this earth, thus, by the rupture of that mysterious 
chain which united him to the infinitely glorious Maker of all 
things, not only lie^ but everything which occupied an inferior 
position in the scale of creation, was cut oflT from its 
appropriate source of life. For not only was all the posterity 
of Adam struck with death in him, but all creatures, and all 
material things, felt the withering influence of the curse. 
Sin is the transgression of the law ; and when the progenitor 
of our race broke the law of Paradise, sin entered and passed 
upon all. The fountain of blessing for this w^orld w^as then 
poisoned to its profoundest sources, and had throw-n into its 
depths such a lasting venom, that, ever since, its stre*ams are 
like unto the w^aters of Marah, bitter and intolerable ; and so 
they must remain until they have imparted to them, not the 
virtue of that tree from which God directed Moses to cut 
branches to sweeten the bitter well in the desert, but until 
they are impregnated by the virtue of Him w^ho hung upon 
the tree of Calvary. The influence of sin is as comprehen- 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 161 

sive as the earth, and so crushing and agonizing in its weight, 
that '^ the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain 
together until now. And not only they^ but ourselves also, 
which have the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves 
groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the 
redemption of our body." The apostle represents this whole 
creation, man and all that lies beneath him, as under an 
oppressive burden, laboring under a painful pressure, and 
yearning for deliverance from their bondage. The curse 
of God fell, therefore, upon the offender, and all things allied 
to him ; and its paralyzing power became as diffusive and 
pervasive as the subtle electric fluid, and passed through the 
entire realm that was placed under the dominion of the lord 
of Eden. So that, while the laws of our physical, intellectual, 
and moral organizations are known to be seriously affected 
by it, material nature and animals have in like manner 
suffered from the shock to such an extent, that they, with us, 
still groan in anguish. Sin is that jarring element which 
often gives a fitful motion to the wheels of nature, and which 
has thrown her into such deep distress, that the woes with 
which her heart is laboring are expressed in the wild howl of 
the tempest and the thunderings of the earthquake. ^' Cursed 
be the ground for thy sake," said the Lord to Adam, " in 
sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life : thorns 
also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee ; and thou shalt eat 
the herb of the field. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat 
bread, till thou return unto the ground ; for out of it wast 
thou taken ; for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou 
14* 



162 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

return." This narrative of that solemn interview of God with 
man as a sinner, clearly affirms, that the earth participated in 
the woes of the curse ; and it is equally just to infer, and it 
can be as successfully established, that the inferior animated 
creation lies under the same penalty. There is not the 
shadow of a doubt, that order, peace, and harmony 
reigned through the unbjighted creation during the innocency 
of man. Enmity, strife, war, cruelty, and death were not 
known, for no malignant impulse was yet implanted in any 
creature. An air of peace and quiet, as beautiful as that 
which reigns in the holy depths of the midnight heavens 
above us, pervaded all things. No foul thought, no murder- 
ous intent, no sinful passion throbbed w^ithin the circle of the 
then glorious and sinless creation. The lion and the lamb, 
the wolf and the kid then roamed over the fields together, 
fed upon the same pastures and drank at the same brooks 
with as much harmony as the stars walk and shine together 
in the firmament above. Even the serpent, which now so 
universally inspires dread, was then neither an object of 
abhorrence nor fear ; forasmuch, as Satan accomphshed his 
ruinous purpose by assuming the form of one of these 
creatures. But the effects of the fall were immediate and 
disastrous to the harmony and glory of Paradise. Those 
creatures that had yielded a cheerful submission to their con- 
stituted lord then became as rebellious as himself. The 
animals lost their peaceable dispositions and inherited fierce 
natures, so as to make them the enemies of man and hostile and 
destructive to each other. Milton's conception of the sudden 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 163 

and sad effects of eating the forbidden fruit, may therefore be 
regarded as strictly true. 

*' Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat; 
"Earth felt the wound, and nature from her seat. 
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of wo, 
That all was lost." 

^' All things," says Dr. Chalmers, "were made subject to 
vanity, i, e, perishableness through the transgression of our 
first parents, at whose fall a universal blight came upon 
nature, and she has now become a wreck of what she was — 
still lovely in many of her aspects, though in sore distress — 
still majestic and venerable, though a venerable ruin appear- 
ing as if out of joint, and giving token by her extended 
deserts, and her wintry frown, and her many fierce and fitful 
agitations, that some mysterious ailment hath befallen her." 
And it must be manifest to every careful reader that such 
was Paul's conception of the wide-spread and agonizing 
effects of sin, when he penned the eighth chapter of his 
epistle to the Romans. As all things participated in the 
blessings which crowned the innocency of man, and the 
smiles of God gladdened the whole earth, so does the Apostle 
include the entire work in the range of his vision, when he 
says, ^' the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain 
together until now," and yearneth for deliverance. Based 
upon this fact, are his subsequent deductions of the future 
glorification, not only of the children of God, but of nature 
herself. It is not an arduous task to establish the unhappy 
and restless state of the human race ; for evidences of this 



164 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

truth are every where visible in the great variety of 
methods adopted by them, through which they hope to 
effect their deHverance from the painful pressure of those 
w^oes, of which they are conscious ; but it may not be so easy 
to perceive this same struggling for life and deliverance from 
bondage in the animal and material creation. And yet, in 
the absence of that power needed to give intelligent expres- 
sions of what may be felt by them, there are, notwithstand- 
ing, such manifest indications of distress in all things around 
us, that the attentive observer needs no higher demonstration 
of the truth that they are laboring for enlargement and free- 
dom. The eminent divine, Olshausen, says, '^ The transition 
of the curse from the conscious creature to the unconscious 
is no arbitrary one, but one of internal necessity. Accord- 
ingly as the fall even of the creature commenced with man, 
so does the restoration of that creature begin also with him. 
The notion of being subjected to vanity presupposes how- 
ever naturally a germ of better life, which, bound only by an 
alien power, is held in bondage. But the existence of this 
germ of a nobler life in every creature forms the fount of its 
yearning for redemption." This same thought is very 
beautifully expressed in the subjoined language of Schubert. 
'^ Even in the things of the world of bodies which surrounds 
us, there is an element of life, a yearning of what is bound, 
w^hich, like that Memnon statue, unconsciously makes 
symphony when the ray touches it from above." Goethe, in 
one of his epistles, utters a similar sentiment — ''When I 
stand all alone at night in open nature, I feel as though it were 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 165 

a spirit and begged redemption of me. Often have I had the 
sensation as if nature, in wailing sadness, entreated something 
of me, so that, not to understand what she longed for cut 
through my very heart." 

Such feelings are not pecuhar to some, but common to all 
contemplative minds, whose meditations rise in sublimity as 
they are assisted by those silent, but eloquent, utterances 
from the awful shrines of nature. For there is a living bond 
of sympathy which connects us with the outer world ; so 
that, while we sigh over the dying brute, and feel a pang or 
drop a tear over the withering flower, our souls throw open 
their inmost sanctuary to welcome those images of beauty 
and lessons of instruction which come thronging, like bright 
spirits from the gorgeous materialism which surrounds us, to 
seek a home within us. And, as the unseen power of life in 
the leafless tree, or within the hard coating of the seed in 
w^hich it is enveloped, bends all its energies to manifest itself 
in the blossom and the fruit, so is there a struggling in this 
blighted creation towards that glorification which enters so 
largely into the predictions of those holy Seers who have 
described the promised ^^new heavens and the new earth." 
This idea runs through the whole Scriptures ; and the promise 
of its realization at some future day lies in the anguish which 
now agitates all things. That period is invested with a 
ravishing beauty; and the eflfects of that renovation are 
I graphically described by the glowing pen of Isaiah. "The 
w^ilderness and the solitary place shall be made glad, and the 
desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose. It shall 



166 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

blossom abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing ; 
the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency 
of Carmel and Sharon ; they shall see the glory of the Lord, 
and the excellency of our God." Pointing to that day when 
this alienated world shall have been recovered to its rightful 
Sovereign, and Jesus Christ shall have lifted off from this 
earth the curse w^hich now lies upon it, he exclaims: ^' The 
wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie 
down w^ith the kid; and the calf and the young lion, and 
the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The 
cow and the bear shall feed together, and their young ones 
shall lie down together ; and the lion shall eat straw like an 
ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the 
asp, and the w^eaned child upon the cockatrice's den. They 
shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the 
Lord." This same prophet, in the thirtieth chapter, speaks 
yet further of the escape from present bondage and the glori- 
fication of nature in language as lofty as it is beautiful. 
" Moreover the lio^ht of the moon shall be as the lio^ht of the 
sun, and the light of the sun sevenfold as the light of seven 
days, in the day that the Lord shall bind up the breach of 
his people, and heal the stroke of their w^ound." And in 
another prophecy it is announced: ''And the waters of the 
Dead Sea shall be healed by the waters which shall flow out 
of the temple ; and by the stream of this w^ater shall grow 
all manner of trees, whose leaf shall not wither, and whose 
fruit shall not decay ; they shall yield their fruit monthly, and 
the leaves thereof shall be for the healing of the heathen." 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 167 

And again we have this purpose uttered from the holy 
oracles, ^'Behold I create all things new." And then is 
described to us the New Jerusalem, clothed in its inef- 
fable splendor. It would seem, then, that all things animate 
and inanimate feel within them the stirrings of a new life, 
and shall gather upon them of the grandeurs of Calvary ; and 
thus transformed, constitute a mirror to reflect the glory of 
God and the Lamb, as also the splendor of the glorified 
saints. Such is the picture drawn by the pencil of inspira- 
tion, of the recovered happiness and glory of that vast 
creation which now groans and travails with us under the 
curse. 

And if we turn from these objects, which we have had 
under consideration to ourselves, and to those in a similar 
condition, and of a like destiny, we find the most conclusive, 
because consciously painful proofs of the evil of sin. For, 
on every part of our marvellous organization do we see the 
impress of a dark calamity which has been entailed upon us; 
and on all our faculties are fetters which sin has forged and 
bound upon them, while all our nerves and fibres quiver 
and tremble with notes of anguish. Look where you 
will, in civilized or savage life, to the highly cultivated 
or the most untutored, in the most refined circles, as. also 
in the lowest grades of human life, and you will find 
man conscious of his imperfect and unhappy condition, 
laboring: for a better state, for a hio^her bliss and a firmer 
peace than this world can give him. He is annoyed with a 
restlessness which admits of no quiet ; oppressed with a 



168 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

burden which no arm of flesh can rernovCj and haunted by a 
sense of spiritual wretchedness which neither the anxieties 
and pressures of a busy occupation, nor yet the excitements 
of company, nor the whirling fascinations of pleasure, can 
alleviate or displace. Deeply within the soul are stirring 
those insatiate desires and longings which are as deathless as 
the undying soul, and, like prisoners in chains maddened 
by their confinement, are ever beating the walls of their 
dungeon, that if possible they may effect a breach which will 
give them an exit into that immensity where alone they can 
range with their wonted sweep, and be satiated with their 
only aliment, the " fulness " of their infinite and glorious 
Author. All, all are under the curse — all over this wide 
earth come up groans and sighs from an exiled race, pining 
away in a bondage from which they cannot disenthral them- 
selves. And this condition is not peculiar to the humble or 
the exalted, to the ignorant or the learned, but is common to 
all in whom burns an immortal, but fallen spirit. Mere 
intellectual attainments, external charities, or the rewards of 
philanthropy, can never answer as a substitute for that moral 
purity and goodness, destitute of which, the soul enjoys no 
pleasure. For even the inheritor of the most brilliant talents, 
and the possessor of the priceless wealth and glowing gems 
of a world's literature, after he has wandered over the ample 
fields of learning and culled its choicest flowers, and his eye 
has ranged over the wide domain of science, is still con- 
scious of an ''inward void," and needs a soul-filling 
object. Such has been the experience of man, and such the 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 169 

tendencies and outcries of our fallen humanity m all ages of 
the world. They have appeared under various forms, in 
which, however, the hope of a future deliverance shone more 
or less clearly. Such were the dreams of Plato, and such the 
expectations of that golden age which loomed out before the 
vision of the ancients while they w^ere encompassed w-ith 
moral darkness. And to the same origin (that of internal 
WTetchedness) may be traced all those modern projects and 
schemes which promise perfectibility to the race, or eman- 
cipation from all the miseries of their bondage, apart from 
and independently of the influences of the gospel. ! that 
those who are pursuing these phantoms, and striving to still 
those inward yearnings by kneeling at an earthly shrine, 
would turn to the Holy Word, which offers a balm for 
the bleeding heart, a blessing for every felt want, and 
wiiich kindles in the soul of the penitent a hope that forms 
a channel through which the blessed realities of eternity flow, 
fresh and full, from the throne of God, filling all his immortal 
capacities unutterably full of glory. For the hope of the 
believer is made up of the elements of future blessedness 
which are inwardly present to him. 

Such is -the extent and severity of the curse, that even 
Christians who rejoice in a conscious deliverance from the 
guilt and dominion of sin yet groan under a w^eight of 
imperfections. Their souls are still the theatre w^here the 
powers of life war with the powers of death, and where the 
spirit and the flesh contend for the mastery. Their hearts 
are the seat of many sorrow^s which necessarily cling to 
15 



170 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

our present life. The believer is in a state of humiliation, 
and not of exaltation — he now bears the cross, but shall wear 
the crown. ''It does not yet appear what we shall be." 
But we are tending upward to Zion, " and like as the ark in 
the desert covered with the skins of animals had an unattrac- 
tive exterior," but underneath those rough externals there 
reposed the majesty and glory of Deity ; thus also, within 
that garb of flesh which the believer w^ears, there lives a soul 
instinct with divinity that shall one day burst its casement 
and rise to the presence of God, and flame with a glory more 
refulgent than that of the sun. And as the path which Jesus 
trod lay through suffering to glory, we could, as his follow- 
ers, desire no smoother road ; forasmuch as disciples should 
contentedly and willingly tread in the footsteps of the Master. 
Therefore we are children, " and if children, then heirs, heirs 
of God, and joint heirs with Jesus Christ, if so be that we 
suffer with him, that we may also be glorified together." 
The children of God should experience the weakness and 
decay of all earthly things, that they may not desire a " con- 
tinuing city here, but seek one which is to come." There 
are those whose trials are manifold, and whose life is filled 
up with uninterrupted weakness and pain. Poverty, sickness, 
and care are sometimes their portion, "for many are the 
afflictions of the righteous." They are exiles who live yet 
at a distance from their Father's house ; — pilgrims journeying 
through a desert land, and sighing for that celestial home 
w^here the chosen of all ages meet. They are encompassed 
with evils, and may suffer reproach and persecution ; for they 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 171 

are sometimes neglected* and hated, and are made the 
subjects of derision and scorn. They behold* the effects of 
sin around them, and are in sympathy with an oppressed 
world. They sorrow over those loved ones who are smitten 
down by death. And as they lay them in the cold grave, it 
is with groanings for that redemption which shall place 
them all beyond the reach and power of the bondage of 
corruption. 

What a mournful spectacle, what a gloomy picture, unrolls 
itself to the mind as w^e look abroad from the sepulchre over 
the desolations which sin has wrought! It is, indeed, an 
exhaustless fountain of woes. It has been flowing ever since 
man opened it in Paradise; and all have tasted its bitter 
waters. No tropic sun has been able to dry up its streams ; 
no frozen north has chilled and bound its channels. No 
desert sands have swallowed them up ; no mountain barriers 
have stayed their progress. Its dark current rolls with fear- 
ful violence over all the earth ; now rising into the loftiest 
palace, then descending into the lowliest hut, and everywhere 
quenching the lamps of life. It sw^ept a world's population into 
eternity, and, when repeopled, drev/ upon others the devouring 
wrath of God. It has kept alive from age to age unholy 
kindling in the bosoms of earthly potentates the lust of passions, 
power, of gain, and of conquest, and everyw^here announcing 
its presence in wars and bloodshed, until the chronicles of 
earth are burdened with crimes and woes. Ruined cities, 
desolated countries, and masses of unburied and bleaching 
human skeletons, proclaim the woes which sin has produced. 



172 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS 

And \vhen it docs not destroy with the fire and the sword, it 
comes in the ^'pestilence which walketh in darkness, and in 
the destruction which wasteth at noonday ;" in the famine 
which devours its milHons, and in numberless diseases which 
have filled our hearts with grief, and the sepulchres of our 
departed with their precious forms. But for it these graves 
would never have been dug, and these tears never would 
have flowed. But for sin no death-groan w^ould ever have 
startled the ear of mortals; and this globe would not have 
become what it now is, a vast charnel-house of corruption. 
It is this fearful element of ruin that has made man frail as 
the leaf; that has poisoned the air we breathe, and the water 
we drink, so that disease rises out of fountains, floats upon 
the winds, and meets us at every step in the journey of life. 
Ay, it is this parent of all wo whose existence we have 
cause to deplore. For all the physical evils to which 
man is heir — all the social evils which aflSict society — all the 
moral deformities which mar and distort humanity — and all 
the distresses which throw the heart of the vast organism of 
creation into such anguish as to send its throbbing w^oes 
through its immense channels — all these are the fruits of 
sin. Blinded by its influence, we have only a very par- 
tial knowledge of its loathsome character. Could w^e see it 
as God sees it, and know its work as He knows it, sin would 
indeed be a monster of frightful aspect. But we see, and 
know, and feel enough of its blighting power. TJie many 
desolate hearths, the faded Edens, and multitudes of weep- 
ing and breaking hearts around us, proclaim its destructive 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 173 

character. Could we collect the anguish, the tears, and dis- 
appointed hopes with which it has filled the world, we would 
shrink appalled from the spectacle. And since it gives birth 
to all secret sorrows and all public calamities, and has made 
it necessary for the Holy One to assume our nature that He 
might atone for our guilt, and even now inflicts fresh wounds 
in every transgression on the Son of God, while it excites 
our fears by peopling eternity with alarming torments, shuts 
up heaven and thrusts down to hell, should we cherish it ? 
Nay, let us loathe it ; let us flee and renounce it, and bear none 
but its necessary evils, and soften these with the balm of life. 
Let us not suffer it to enslave us in debasing bondage, or 
bring us to an unholy grave and an undone eternity ; for if 
this world, in its ameliorated state by the influences of the 
work of redemption, still groans, what must be the weight of 
damnation ? If the curse of sin wrings cries of anguish from 
a laboring creation, with what crushing force w^ill not the 
curse of final rejection fall upon the unhappy sinner! Can 
thy heart be strong and thy soul endure the w^eight of eternal 
woes ? 0, God ! draw" us, that w^e may hasten to Thee 
for refuge, for peace, and for hope. For within the embraces 
of thy love w^e find our true felicity ; and with Thy presence 
to cheer us, w^e will press forw^ard through this vale of tears, 
until our bodies find repose in the grave, and our souls rest 
in heaven. 

^' There shall I bathe my weary soul 

In seas of heavenly rest ; ^ 

And not a wave of trouble roll 
Across my peaceful breast." 

15* 



174 THE SEPULCHRE PROCLAIMS, ETC. 

O, my God! Thou art merciful, and faithful, and true. 
Thou hast given this world to Thy Son. He has purchased 
it by the wealth of His priceless suffering, by His blood, and 
the offering of His soul. Hasten, then. His universal reign, 
and the complete redemption of this earth. 0, Thou insulted 
Sovereign ! pity Thy fallen creation. Dry up the fountains of 
sin ; command its desolating streams back to the abysses of 
hell, and there bind them in eternal fetters. Stay the foot- 
steps of the destroyer; break his terrible spell, and overturn 
the throne of Iniquity. Multiply and encourage the good; 
fill with Thy wisdom and omnipotence all their schemes of 
mercy, that Thou mayest be recognized as moving in these, 
that the earth may tremble beneath Thy tread, and thrones 
and kingdoms melt away before Thy purposes, until the 
shout of final and complete conquest is rolled around the 
globe, and ascends and mingles wdth the notes of the 
numberless multitude, pealing wdth the voice of ten thousand 
thunders through the universe, " Hallelujah ! for the kingdoms 
of the earth have become the kingdoms of our Lord and his 
Christ." 

O ! let the cries of our afflicted, yearning humanity pierce 
Thy heavens, Almighty Father, and join their petitions with 
those of atoning blood, and bring peace and deliverance to 
its anguished heart. Yes, hasten the w^orld's redemption! 
Dawn, O dawn ! thy day of glory ! that the groanings of 
this travailing creation may be changed into songs of deliver- 
ance and everlasting praise. 



CHAPTER NINTH. 

THE SEPULCHRES OF OUR DEPARTED ADMONISH 
US TO BE GENTLE AND KIND TO THE LIVING. 



" Be kind to each other through weal and through wo, 
For there's many a sorrow for hearts here below ; 
The storms of this life beat around us in vain, 
If we're kind to each other in pleasure and pain." 



Beautiful is the twinkling star that lonely shines far out 
in the firmament of a dark night, and charming that flower 
which blooms amid the \vide-spread waste of desert sands. 
In the eyes of the observer the brilliancy of the one is 
augmented by the darkness which surrrounds it ; and the 
loveliness of the other enhanced by the absence of all things 
else fitted to produce delight. And thus, also, in this w'orld 
of clashing schemes and jarring interests, of disappointments 
and sorrows, of blighted hopes and broken hearts, there is 
nothing which more successfully relieves the gloom and 
softens the woes of life than kindness. That star in the 
cauiopy of heaven is not so beautiful, nor is that lone flow^er 
in that arid scene so lovely, as a gentle spirit. A spirit that 
glows wdth goodness, thrills in all its fibres w-ith kind inten- 
tions, and is ever animated with purposes of mercy, is the first- 

(175) 



376 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

born of holy love. It is born from heaven, and is attired 
and sent on its mission by Him who is love. Behold how it 
moves about with cherub wings, dropping upon the desert 
spots of life those kindnesses and blessings which, like 
fragrant flowers, exhale their aroma on the air we breathe. 
It is a bright visitant to dark and desolate homes, mingling 
its tears with wretchedness, illumining the despairing and 
desponding with smiles of pity, and breathing into downcast 
hearts the energies of hope. May this celestial spirit find a 
home in every bosom, that we may with its gentle influence 
smooth for each other the asperities of life. 

Many are the blessings of social life and rich and varied 
are its enjoyments, but it has also its trials, and its joys are 
often embittered by disappointments and crosses. A friend 
is unfaithful, the family is afflicted, some unkind gossip 
reaches our ear and chafes our spirit, or envy shoots a dart 
to wound our reputation. Vexations and annoyances in one 
form or another meet us at every step and turn in life, so that 
no palace nor cottage, no home nor heart may be found, where 
the cares that befall us do not make a portion of our life a 
weariness. And 0, how reviving to the tried and afflicted 
is the solace which a gentle spirit imparts ; and how soothing 
to an anguished mind are w^ords of kindness from a friend ! 
If the world is dark with frowns, and we tread a thorny road, 
we regard none of these, so that a few kind hearts beat 
around us, and a few gentle spirits bless us with their minis- 
trations. Human nature is susceptible of high cultivation ; 
but whatever excellencies it may possess, among -all its visible 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 



•l77 



virtues, there are none which adorn it with a lovelier aspect 
than gentleness and kindness. These shed a lustre over all 
other traits and invest the whole character w^ith attractive 
charms ; for, wherever found, they impart grace and beauty. 
Acts of kindness are the offspring of a gentle spirit. They 
are seeds of blessing which have always rewarded the sower 
with an abundant harvest. There are many sources from 
which we may learn the value of gentleness and kindness, 
and there are numerous and weighty considerations w^hich 
might be urged for their cultivation. They are clothed with 
an excellence which must commend them to our understand- 
ings, and which never fails to win our hearts. What are the 
objects which we most admire in the world around us? 
Assuredly those things which are clothed whh an air of 
gentleness. The unchained hurricane may inspire feelings 
of terror as the eye runs along the desolations that mark its 
track ; but it is the soft breeze, which soothes the fevered 
invalid and sustains the man of toil, that w^e love. The 
traveller, oppressed by a burning sun, and toiling his slow 
progress through hot sands, dreads the simoom ; but is glad- 
dened and refreshed, while his soul swells wnth emotions of 
delight, as the gentle zephyr fans him, as with angel wings, 
while he reposes in the shadow of a great rock. There is a 
wild grandeur in the dashing and foaming torrent: as if 
incensed by the obstruction it meets in those rocky barriers 
over which its course leads, it leaps angrily onward until it 
falls over the frightful precipice in broken masses ; but it is 
only beautiful when those waters pass out from that whirl- 



178 ^ KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

pool and form themselves into a river that flows quietly and 
placidly from that scene of confusion, and winds through 
smiling valleys reflecting the glory of the setting sun, and 
adding to the tranquillity which reigns at evening over the 
landscape. It is when the w^ar of elements is hushed, and 
the tempest has rolled off' its dark chariots, and the lightnings 
on the distant horizon are flashing their retreat, that we con- 
template with pleasure the spangled heavens. The starry 
firmament in the midnight stillness, when the music of the 
spheres charms the ear of the spirit, causes our thoughts and 
aspirations to rise on angel wangs to yonder fields of light, 
and carries our affections within that w^orld of glory where sits 
enthroned the infinite Ruler of the universe; and the soul 
mingles in the sublime w^orship above, and bends in profound 
adoration with the innumerable throng around the throne of 
eternal love. It is the quiet landscape on w-hich the light of 
day gradually melts away into the twilight ; w'hen the bleating 
of lambs, and the lowing of kine, are dying upon the air ; and 
all the noises of a restless w^orld are blending into the repose 
of evening; and the gentle brook warbles its lonely and 
plaintive notes ; it is then that the scene kindles within us the 
sweetest emotions, because in unison w^ith the rest of this 
laboring world. It is the gentleness which characterizes the 
revolutions of the heavenly bodies, and the silent but mighty 
operations of nature, which impart to them their loftiest 
grandeur and highest glory. It is not nature in war, but 
nature in repose, that we love. There is gentleness in the 
descending sunbeam and in the falling showier. Softly does 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 179 

the dew distil upon the earth, and silently is the work 
of those laws accomplished which robe the forest in its 
foliage, and the field in its harvests. And wdthin the social 
circle we are most frequently and irresistibly drawn into the 
society of those of our associates and friends who are of a 
meek and quiet spirit ; and for a long and prosperous friend- 
ship none are so w^ell qualified to crown it with blessings ; 
forasmuch as kindness and gentleness are jewels which 
change and age do not dim. And while we cheerfully yield 
our admiration to the objects in which they are found, there 
are numberless reasons which should induce us to labor for 
their possession. Behold that mother whose life is character- 
ized by gentleness! w^hat an air of peace she sheds over the 
family circle. Its moulding power is felt by the spirit of 
her husband ; the stern and severe features of his character 
are softened, and his mind acts wuth a new force in all 
the walks of business. And upon the pliable nature of her 
children the image of her lovely spirit forms itself, and shows 
all its interesting features in their looks, language, and 
behaviour ; and the whole family becomes noted for its 
amiability ; for all their actions are cast in the same mould of 
kindness. 

But it is time to inquire as to the manner in which the 
sepulchre becomes a teacher of gentleness and kindness. 
There is perhaps no instructor that can so impressively set 
forth their value, and none in whose presence we feel so 
sensibly the importance of such a course of conduct towards 
our brethren of mankind, that, when they leave this world, 



180 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

we have nothing of harshness towards them with which 
to reproach ourselves. ! what unavaiUng regrets are 
sometimes uttered over the dead, and W'hat burning tears 
and lamentations are sometimes poured around their 
tombs ! Memory is never more active nor more faithful in 
calling up past events, than at the graves of our cherished 
ones. All that we have ever done, or said, to grieve or 
afflict a parent, a friend, or a child, will start up before the 
mind like a frightful and accusing spectre. Even intended 
wrongs, which were never consummated, are remembered 
with bitterness of heart. Bitter are the tears, and touchingly 
painful the grief of that youth, w^hose w^aywardness pierced 
the heart of an affectionate parent, " and brought his gray 
hairs with sorrow^ to the grave." It w^as with a vile hand 
that he broke those golden cords by which a mother's efforts 
and a mother's prayers had bound his infant soul to virtue ; 
and, contrary to her example, and in opposition to her 
instructions, he threw the pearl of price into the dust. Or it 
may have been a companion, a friend, or a child, to w^hom a 
mysterious Providence appointed a painful and protracted 
affliction, and designed you as the kind attendant and 
ministering spirit of that declining one. In such an office 
human nature soon grows weary and impatient of its confine- 
ment to the functions of those who nurse the afflicted ; and 
if, as it frequently happens, the patient becomes restless and 
peevish -under his multiform sufferings, he may increase the 
annoyance of the attendant, until it manifests itself in a 
weary look, and in marked reluctance in the discharge of his 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 181 

duty. As an illustration, I may here give the history of a 
young lady who detailed her own experience in such a case 
to a friend, from whom she sought comfort. Her mother 
was called to pass through a long and painful affliction before 
she died. The daughter was remarkably kind and affection- 
ate, and by day and by night ministered to her wants. The 
slightest cough or groan of her mother would awaken her, 
and instantly bring her to the couch of her sick parent. But, 
wearied with long watchings, her ow^n health gave w^ay, and 
she permitted thoughts of her hard condition to rise and 
strengthen in her mind, until they assailed and overthrew her 
patience. She had laid dow^n to find relief in sleep from the 
feelings which clouded her heart ; and shortly after, having 
fallen into a troubled slumber, the voice of the afflicted one 
faintly called for a glass of w^ater. She felt irritated as she 
rose ; and, although she uttered not a word, her looks 
betrayed her feelings as the light shone fully in her face ; and 
the feehngs depicted in that countenance put gall and worm- 
w^ood into that cup of w^ater, and crushed the heart that 
fondly loved her — and it stood pulseless that moment. The 
revulsion of that daughter's feelings was sudden and terrible, 
while it swept with desolating power over her soul. In vain 
she sobbed and shrieked ; in vain did she chafe those icy 
hands ; in vain she bathed those cold temples with her hot 
tears. " !" she cried, " for one w^ord of pardon — ! for 
one forgiving look from my dear mother!" but those lips 
were sealed in death, and those eyes were closed forever. 
" ! sir," she said to the friend to whom she related the 
16 



182 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

incident, '' this sorrow has reached through all my life. The 
memory of that hour throws its dark shadow over every 
bright scene, and casts its bitter ingredients into all the 
streams of my comfort. Years have passed away ; but that 
unkind look which broke my mother's heart rankles as a 
thorn in my soul, and w^ill cause my heart to bleed until I 
obtain her forgiveness in heaven." 

A favorite writer, whose every intellectual offspring glows and 
dazzles, holds the following language in reference to the grave : 
^' Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, 
and not feel a compunctious throb that ever he should have 
warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering 
before him!" ^'But the grave of those we loved — what a 
place for meditation!" "Ay, go to the grave of buried love, 
and meditate ! There settle the accounts wuth thy conscience 
for every past benefit unrequited, every past endearment 
unregarded, of that departed being who can never, never 
return to be soothed by thy contrition." 

Some years ago I knew a beautiful young lady, who was 
delicately reared and warmly cherished by a highly respect- 
able circle of affectionate friends. She was gifted with rare 
intellectual powders, w^ith refined sensibilities, and these 
crowned w^ith that charming amiability which a gentle 
spirit imparts to a lofty soul ; and all were canopied by a 
person of extraordinary beauty. Like a delicate flower that 
blooms and exhales its fragrance upon the air under the 
wooing influences of a sunny clime, and that would shrink 
instinctively and wither from the first breath of cold, so was 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 183 

my young friend brilliant and beautiful, but so tender that a 
frowning look would bathe her in tears. She was amiable 
and confiding as a child. Open in her manners, ardent and 
innocent in her feelings, no dark suspicion of the integrity of 
others entered her soul. And, thus constituted, she measured 
others by her own guileless nature, and believed them to be 
upright and true as herself; and having never been deceived, 
she thought the intentions of her suitor were as holy as those 
which reposed in her ow^n bosom. She was wooed and won 
by a man of some talent, yet her inferior in intellectual 
strength, and supremely selfish ; who but plucked the lovely 
flower from the parent stem, then cast it aside to wither. 
Passionately did she love him ; and fondly did the tendrils 
of her affections twine around the spirit of him who should 
have been to her w^hat the oak is to the vine, a shelter from 
the heat, and a support in the storm. But a nature so gross 
as his w^as ill adapted to one of fine texture ; neither was he 
capable of appreciating a creature so lovely ; and he grew 
cold and selfish — his looks, words, and actions became 
harshly repulsive, and fell like mildew upon her heart, so 
that, instead of being attracted by kindness, she shrank under 
his scowd like a timid faw^n. She received not those little 
attentions and approving smiles which are the dew and sun- 
shine to the soul of a loving wife. She was seldom seen in 
those little gatherings where the husband was found ; and 
when she walked, it was alone and without the strong staff* 
upon which she had leaned, but which had pierced her 
heart. And yet she was meek and uncomplaining; no 



184 KINDT^ESS TO THE LIVING. 

reproachful look nor unkind word escaped her ; " but like 
the pierced dove which hides her wounds with her snowy 
wings," so did she conceal her heart-sorrow from all but a 
few friends. She knew that the blow which shattered 
her heart must soon terminate her sorrows ; and here w^as her 
only comfort — the hope of deliverance from this bondage. 
She had a mother and Saviour in heaven, and she knew that 
they loved her ; and there too, perhaps, might he w^hom she 
still adored, but under whose neglect she was pining away, 
be possessed of a gentler nature. The Lord, to whom alone 
she told all her sorrows, had pity upon her, and in the pleni- 
tude of His compassion, sent an angel to break her fetters 
and set the fair prisoner free. A few" months' w^ork of a 
gentle disease "broke the golden bowl, and loosened the 
silver chord, and broke the pitcher at the fountain. Her 
death was gentle and beautiful as her life had been ; and the 
transactions of that parting scene were fraught with keen 
anguish to the heart that had deceived her. And how must 
the recollection of those wTongs which bhghted one of the 
fairest daughters of earth oppress the mind of her betrayer, 
if there still lingers within it some measure of sensibility ! 
Who would, for ten thousand worlds, have those dark reflec- 
tions which must throng around his brain, and crawl like 
scorpions and stinging adders around his conscience in the 
midnight hour — that hour during which a mysterious Power 
so often brings about a resurrection of our sins, and places 
them as accusers before the mind ! Would that we could 
believe this to be an isolated case ! but, could we see what 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 185 

the eye above us sees, alas ! how many would we behold 
withering like delicate flowers und^r intentional or uninten- 
tional neglect on the part of those who have vowed to cherish 
and love them ! And, oh ! if there be a crime which more 
especially merits the frown of heaven and the reprobation of 
mankind than other wrongs, it is that of harshness and un- 
kindness to a sensitive and gentle wife. My soul has no 
compassion, much less respect, for one who is so brutal in 
his feelings, and so debased in his nature, as to enable him, 
by scowls and reproachful words to send from his presence 
the heart that idolizes him, trembling with fear and bleeding 
with anguish. A woman of fine sensibilities and quick per- 
ceptions is always uncomplaining, even when she feels all 
this ; for such is the weight of her wrongs that they find 
expression only in secret tears, while they form that deep 
iiorrow which settles with all the fixedness and gloom of des- 
pair upon her soul. And even when thrown within Ihe 
excitements of the gay circle, and she participates in social 
amusements, there is a tinge of sadness in her eye, and a 
languor in her smile, that reveal a deeply-seated heart-sorrow. 
It is a dictate of wisdom, if nothing more, to shun the 
oppressor of woman, and to beware of him as we would of 
the wily serpent. If we have. lost friends whose graves are 
not yet dug, and who once lived within our inmost heart, 
but who most of all others abused our confidence and out- 
raged our feelings, we would certainly reckon as first those 
who tyrannized over a delicate woman and crushed a gentie 
spirit by unkindness ; for we hold it to be an incontrovertible 
16* 



186 KINDNESS TO THE LIVINQ. 

truth that the heart that is false in the home circle, and while 
it throbs against a bosom of purity, is false everywhere 
else. But we hope that there are few such instances, 
in comparison with the many who know how to illumine 
their homes with kindness, and under whose fostering 
care the souls of those gentle beings with whose destiny 
their own and that of their children is linked, are light and 
joyous, and pour forth from those exhaustless fountains of 
woman's affection that wealth of love which strengthens and 
beautifies the nature of man, animates him with unconquer- 
able energy for the race of life, gives birth to high resolves, 
and fills his soul with that quiet, deep, and abiding happi- 
ness which no other object except a gentle and beautiful 
wife can bestow outside of heaven. And all those who can 
appreciate her worth, and are cheered by her presence, and 
sustained by the energy of her love, will respond to the 
sentiment as though it were uttered out of their own 
hearts, that is so happily and elegantly expressed by a gifted 
poet : — 

" Feel'st thou no joy, no quiet happiness, 
No soothing sense of satisfaction, in 
Loving and being loved? Is there no weight 
Removed from the heart, in knowing there is one 
To share all, to bear all with thee ? To soothe grief, 
Yea, to soften away its human pain 
By a superior love, the cup to temper 
With words of consolation and sweet hope, 
That even its very bitterness shall seem sweet, 
Forgotten in the love that offers it!" 

As another illustration of the painful regrets which are 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 187 

sometimes induced by the consciousness of having acted 
unkindly towards those who are near and dear to us, I may 
mention some incidents in the life of a young man with whom 
I am personally acquainted, and w^ho has not yet forgiven 
himself for acting in opposition to the expressed wishes 
of honored parents. He was the youngest of an ancient and 
excellent family, and as fondly cherished by an aged father 
and mother, as Jacob loved Joseph. But in common with 
other young men who have been reared in fashionable life, 
and in affluent circumstances, he felt those stirrings for 
adventure and distinction within him which invariably beget 
that restlessness of spirit which so frequently issues in a 
w^andering life. As these fires were slowly burning and 
occasionally flashing forth in expressions of hope for 
enlargement, they were suddenly fanned into irrepressible 
power by the adventures and reported successes of those who 
had abandoned their homes and gone to the golden land. 
He became restive under the family restraints, and impatient 
under the gentle rule of a worthy, but indulgent father. He 
longed for a larger freedom, and a more untrammelled inde- 
pendence. The venerable patriarch expostulated with his 
son, when he uttered his determination to go to the far-off 
land. He drew a vivid picture of the privations and suffer- 
ings which those had endured whose bones were then 
bleaching somewhere in the pathless wilds, where they had 
fallen while on their w^ay to the country whither he wished to 
go ; and the perils of body and of soul to which he w^ould 
be exposed, away from the influences of the sanctuary and the 



188 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

pleasant restraints of home. He begged him to consider the 
pain he would occasion to them all if he persisted in his 
determination to sunder those ties which bound him to those 
who gave him birth. And, softening as he proceeded, he 
continued, ''My son, why not settle down upon your farm, 
and live near your brothers and sisters, so that when you are 
sick we may be near to comfort you, or in distress w^e may 
have the power to minister to your wants. Look upon 
me and your mother — we have travelled far in the race 
of life, the infirmities of age are fast gathering upon us, and 
our pilgrimage is drawing to a close. Leave us not to go 
down into the valley of death unattended by you. ! permit 
our eyes to rest their last look upon you, the child of our old 
age. At least, w^ait until we shall sleep with our fathers, 
before you carry your purpose into effect." But the sunny 
land, wdth its rivers flowing with the sparkhng dust, was 
continually floating before his excited vision, and charmed 
his heart away. He had heard of the ample treasures which 
men amassed in a few days ; and in his dreams by night he 
saw^ the brilliant ore spread out at his feet and waiting his 
appropriation of it. His imagination threw its bewitching 
charms around the pomp, splendor, and honor which large 
wealth can purchase ; and the future rose before his mind 
clothed in the most gorgeous hues, till he resolved to break 
away from every consideration which had been urged, and 
go in pursuit of the coveted good. And he did go ; neither 
the remonstrances nor tears of his parents, and a large circle 
of friends, could detain him. He dashed every tender 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 189 

recollection from his mind, quieted his heart to every mis- 
giving, and nerved his soul to brave every form of danger 
that lay between him and the object he loved. Wearily and 
sadly did those aged ones spend the evening of their life. 
And often through the watches of the night there would 
break forth from their pillow ; — '' ! my son, my son — ! 
my God, bring back our child," Others, kind and faithful, 
strove to comfort them ; but their thoughts seemed to wander 
continually after the absent one. The time of their departure 
arrived, but he was not there to receive their blessing ; and 
their dying breath was spent in supplications to the good 
Shepherd that He might fold their straying lamb. The 
officiating clergyman, at the funeral of the father, begged a 
covenant-keeping God to remember the absent son, and to bless 
this dispensation of Providence to his soul ; and many other 
hearts were laboring with heaven for the young man's salvation; 
and He who has respect to ''the effectual fervent prayer of 
the righteous," heard those petitions and reclaimed that son. 
It was after a hard day's toil, on the evening of the 
day on which his father was buried, that that young man 
threw himself beneath a branching tree to repose for the 
night. While his eyes looked up through a quiet sky, and 
peered into the starlight firmament above, suddenly there 
flashed upon his memory a remark which his distant father 
had made to him when a little boy, and which had been long 
forgotten until recalled that moment. One evening as they were 
sitting in the open air the son innocently asked, '' Father, how 
can the stars shine every night ?" He said, '' My son, God gives 



190 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

thera light; and, if you are a good boy, you will one day 
become more beautiful and bright than yonder stars." The 
recollection of this incident started a train of reflections which 
gathered within their range the endearments of home, his 
fond parents, and his own ingratitude and disobedience ; and 
his heart smote him, and all the desolation and gloom of a 
guilty soul came upon him, so that he wTCstled alone with 
God in prayer until the dawn of a new day was breaking 
upon the world, when also the light of a reconciled Saviour's 
countenance broke upon his soul, and he leaped from the 
earth with the first exclamations of his new-born spirit ; " My 
father! my mother! I will fly to their feet!" And he 
did fly. Having hastily made the necessary preparations, he 
started for home. But, alas for our young friend, on the 
very day of his arrival, and only a few hours previous to his 
return, the last parent had been committed to the grave. As 
he rushed into the ancient mansion, the weeping and sobbing 
circle of brothers and sisters told him that he was too late. 
Where is my father? my mother? not dead? They could 
only point to the village graveyard, where they had laid them. 
And to their graves he flew^, and there, prostrate on their 
newly-made sepulchres, he poured forth most touching and 
piteous lamentations. "0! that these ashes might speak a 
forgiving word ! O ! that they knew that their disobedient 
son weeps tears of penitence upon their graves!" And 
although he has been eminently successful in his efforts 
to acquire wealth, and enjoys the confidence and esteem of a 
large circle of friends, his unkindness to those who so fondly 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 191 

cherished him, has tinged with a melancholy gloom all his 
possessions, and imprinted on his brow a sadness so deep, 
that no sunlight of earthly prosperity will ever drive it away. 
These sketches, drawn from incidents in real life, may suffice 
to show the importance of a gentle and kind behaviour 
towards all with whom we mingle, and wuth whom we are 
associated in the various relations of life. 

Should these pages fall under the eye of a youth who has 
broken through all those tender ties and affectionate endear- 
ments of home, and gone out upon a wild and sinful career, 
and for whom a sorrowing parent still mourns and prays, let 
me affectionately urge him to hasten to the feet of that long- 
neglected and injured parent, and seek forgiveness, and 
amend his life ; for the curse of heaven rests with withering 
power upon filial disobedience. Whatever parents may 
endure in the shape of painful calamities, nothing is so crush- 
ing and desolating as the conviction that all their anxieties 
and labors for a beloved child are unrequited ; while it is the 
extreme of baseness to despise their warnings, and pour con- 
tempt upon their instructions ; for this is to trample on their 
hearts and then mock their pain. Or if my reader is a 
daughter that was undutiful, or a husband or a wife that was 
unfaithful, let them remember that every wrong inflicted upon 
a human being carries within it a reciprocal force, which 
becomes the more terrible the longer it is in striking with its 
reacting power the heart from which it sprung; and let them 
hasten to the bleeding spirit of the injured one, and soothe 
it with tears of repentance. For it is far better that such 



192 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

should submit to the most humiliating confessions, than per- 
mit the opportunity of seeking pardon to pass away, and 
utter their fruitless regrets over the dust of the injured. 

But in giving a more positive form to the discussion of this 
subject, I will yet add, that this lesson of >kindness to the 
living w^hich the sepulchre suggests is abundantly enforced, 
and its importance successfully established, by the intimations 
of Providence, the example of Jesus, and the expressed 
declarations of Heaven. It is the dictate of wisdom always to 
consult the teachings of Providence, and to copy from the ex- 
amples of its honored instruments. And the high estimation in 
which God holds such a disposition may be inferred from the 
fact that the most distinguished persons that ever lived, and 
who were sent by Him upon the most difficult and important 
missions into our world, were remarkable for their gentleness. 
Moses, the illustrious leader and lawgiver of the Hebrews, was 
noted for his quiet spirit. How calmly and majestically does he 
stand out to our view on those occasions when encompassed 
by a heated and clamorous multitude, whose insults and re- 
proaches w^ere poured upon his head ! How^ great is his 
forbearance and meekness, while he listens to their complaints 
and unreasonable demands! With what ardent affection 
must his heart have yearned over that ungrateful people, when 
he appealed so touchingly to Jehovah to spare them, and 
rather blot him from existence than not preserve that nation 
which was the ordained instrumentality through which the 
great purposes of Divine mercy were to be unfolded, and the 
constituted channel through which the blessings of redemp- 
tion were to flow out upon a lost world ! 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 193 

Our blessed Saviour, also, was gentle and kind. Every- 
thing connected with His incarnation, His life, His death, and 
ascension to heaven, wears an aspect of gentleness. The 
King of Kings, whose advent might have been made under 
the most imposing circumstances, wdth millions of angels, 
all dazzling with light, and heralding his descent to our earth, 
came gently ; not with the pomp and grandeur of universal 
empire didst Thou come, adorable Redeemer! 

" Thou wast born of woman ; thou didst come 
Holiest ! to this world of sin and gloom, 
Not in thy dread omnipotent array ; 

And not by thunder strow'd 

Was thy tempestuous road ; 
Nor indignation burned before thee on thy way. 

But thee a soft and naked child, 

Thy mother undefiled, 

In the rude manger laid to rest 

From off her virgin breast. 

The heavens were not commanded to prepare 

A gorgeous canopy of golden air, 
Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high ; 

A single silent star 

Came wand'ring from afar. 
Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky ; 

The Eastern sages leading on. 

As at a kingly throne, 

To lay their gold and odors sweet 

Before thy infant feet. 

And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand 

With devastation in thy red right hand. 
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew ; 

But thou didst haste to meet 

Thy mother's coming feet. 
And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few; 

Then calmly, slowly, didst thou rise 

Into thy native skies ; 

Thy human form dissolved on high, 
17 In its own radiancy." 



194 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

From the period of his birth to the startling scenes of 
crucifixion — from Bethlehem to Calvary — we have exhibited 
for our admiration a life of unbroken gentleness. His whole 
career was so beautiful with goodness, so replete with all that 
commands the homage of the mind, so sublime and 
unearthly, that the skeptical Rousseau, after he had finished 
reading the Saviour's life, uttered these memorable w^ords : 
'' Can he who is the subject of this history be himself a mere 
man ? Was his the tone of an enthusiast, or an ambitious 
sectary ? What sweetness ! What purity in his manners ! 
What an aflfecting gracefulness in his instructions! What 
sublimity in his maxims ! What wisdom in his discourses! 
How^ great the command over his passions ! Where is the 
man, where the philosopher, who could so live, suffer, and 
die without weakness and without ostentation! If the life 
and death of Socrates were those of a sage, the life and 
death of Jesus w^ere those of a God." 

That God highly values these traits in the character of his 
children is manifest from the many admonitions in his Word 
to be meek, courteous, gentle, and kind. Christians are 
exhorted to walk " with all lowliness and meekness, with 
long suffering, forbearing one another in love. Endeavoring 
to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." '' Let 
all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil- 
speaking, be put away from you, with all malice. And be 
ye kind one to another; tender-hearted, forgiving one another 
even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you." ^'Bear 
ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 195 

And the law of Christ is a law of love or kindness. The 
Lord has also given many gracious promises to those who 
cultivate such a spirit. " He wdll beautify the meek with 
salvation." "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the 
earth" " Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be 
called the children of God." These exhortations might be 
multiplied to almost any extent, clearly showing what the 
Apostle Paul declares, " That a meek and quiet spirit is in 
the sight of God an ornament of great price." 

And if there were no commands or laws in the Holy Word 
bearing on this subject, the influence of kindness is so 
obviously blessed, as to teach all men the importance of its 
uniform practice. The person who deals gently wdth all who 
come w^ithin the circle of his friendship, is amply compen- 
sated in the happiness he derives from making others happy. 
The sentiment in that popular song — '' Be kind to the loved 
ones at home," is as just as it is beautiful. And never do 
we feel it so impressively, as w^hen one of those " loved 
ones " is removed by death, and we are called to follow his 
remains to the silent grave. There by the sepulchre we shall 
rejoice even in our sorrow, if the testimony of our conscience 
assures us that we have faithfully and kindly discharged the 
offices of friendship and affection tow^ards the departed. It 
will be an exercise that richly repays, often to examine our 
conduct amid the endearing relations of home, in the light of 
that solemn hour when all earthly ties shall be sundered ; 
and to order all our actions in sight of the open grave w^hither 
we, and those around us, are going ; that, to the distress which 



196 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

will then wring our hearts, there may not be added the 
bitterest of all reflections, that we wounded by unkindness the 
friend w^e mourn. In all the relations of life should we strive 
to exhibit a quiet disposition and a kind bearing towards our 
fellow-creatures. In the family, every heart should throb 
with kindness. The domestic circle may sometimes become 
a scene of trials and sufferings. Afflictions and misfortunes 
may fall upon us, or overtake those we love, and obscure 
our prospects ; but however painful such visitations are, they 
are never intolerable while the light of gentle spirits illumines 
the home. And if some member of the household is smitten 
with a painful malady, which is slowly consuming his 
strength, and working its way onward to the citadel of life, 
while it induces a complaining disposition or fretfulness of 
spirit in the sufferer, still it is our duty to bear with him 
patiently, and to minister with cheerfulness to his increasing 
wants. And if days and nights wear heavily away in our 
watchings by the sick-bed, yet should we betray no impa- 
tience ; for it will be a precious consolation when weeping 
over the lifeless form, to know that we fondly cherished him 
to the last. 

The same spirit should accompany us into all the other 
walks of social beings. And as gentleness diffuses itself over 
society, it will displace suspicion and distrust, those canker- 
w^orms that sap the life and purity of communities where they 
exist, while it restores and strengthens confidence between 
men. It is also closely allied to a spirit of disinterested 
benevolence, and therefore raises man above the narrow 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 197 

enclosures of sectionalism and sectarianisna, and prompts him 
to such actions as will diffuse their blessings far and wide. 
And such a disposition will incline us to treat tenderly those 
unfortunate poor, w^ho call at our doors for a morsel of bread, 
or a little pecuniary aid. If you would be " eyes to the 
blind, and feet to the lame ;" if the widow and the orphan 
are to find a valuable friend in you, sympathy must accom- 
pany your beneficence to them. If you feed the hungry, 
clothe the naked, and distribute to the necessities of the 
unfortunate, do it kindly. Let them see that it gives you 
pleasure to befriend them ; and the value of your charity will 
be greatly enhanced. Believe it, a charity bestow^ed wdth an 
air of gentleness, and with words of encouragement and 
of hope, w^ill be doubly blessed. Your kind words and 
pleasant looks may call into play feelings to which they have 
long been strangers ; for they are mostly received coldly, and 
sent away abruptly, as if their presence could not long be 
endured ; so that even the little w^hich they receive does not 
lighten their burden ; because they discovered nothing in 
their benefactors to assure them that they are in unison with 
sympathising hearts, and therefore their weary and w^orn 
spirits are not soothed. Be kind to those who differ from 
you in opinion and in faith. Others enjoy the same right of 
opinion which we claim for ourselves. They may be as 
good, perhaps far better in the sight of God, than those who 
would pronounce harsh judgment upon them. Let not angry 
words or harsh feelings chill the glow of love, or quench the 
flame of friendship. Suffer not selfishness to drive your mind 
17* 



198 KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 

and heart from others, but unite them to thyself by bonds of 
intellectual and moral affinity. As a Christian, make mani- 
fest in your life the spirit and principles of Him who loved 
those who hated Him, and who, even amid the throes of his 
agony upon the cross, uttered the unearthly prayer — '' Father 
forgive them, for they know not what they do." A gentle 
life w^ill be followed by a gentle death. For he that has 
"ruled his spirit," and delighted in peace, shall pass away 
softly as the drop mingles back into the ocean, and quietly 
as the beam melts aw^ay into the glory of perfect day. 

" Be kind to each other in sorrow and grief, 
'Tis sympathy only can give thee relief, 
Dividing our sorrovr, but lessens our pain. 
Be kind to each other — affliction is vain. 
Be kind to each other when sickness has come. 
Let nothing but smiles ever visit your home ; 
Encourage and succor^ and soothe the distressed, 
Be kind to each other and still thou art blest. 
Be kind to each other through life to its close, 
And when thou art freed from its wishes and woes, 
When freed from life's tears, from its sorrows and sighs, 
Be kind to each other and meet in the skies." 

As one who, in common wath others has been wounded, it 
may be, by erring shafts from the quiver of friendship, or 
arrows shot by the spirit of envy and detraction, I deem it 
not inappropriate here to say, that they are all buried so 
deeply, that no resurrection awaits them on earth, and so 
softened by the dews of forgiveness, that they may moulder 
into the dust of oblivion before the judgment-day. And at 
peace as I humbly trust with God and man, I mean so to live, 
that the monument which I may build, whether lowly or 



KINDNESS TO THE LIVING. 199 

lofty, shall be composed of the jasper, the chrjsolite, the 
topaz and amethyst brought from the Grospel's mine, and the 
top-stone quarried from the mount of Calvary — a polished 
block of Christian love, inscribed with the prayer of my 
Lord, that trembled from his deatb-quivering lips — " Father 
forgive them, for they knew not what they did ?" 



CHAPTER TENTH. 

POSTHUMOUS FAME — THE SEPULCHRE INSTRUCTS US 
HOW TO LIVE, SO AS TO BE REMEMBERED WHEN 
DEAD. 



" Lives of tbe great and good remind us, 

We can make our lives sublime ; 
And departing leave behind us, 

Footsteps on the sands of time — 
Footprints that perchance another. 

Sailing o'er life's troubled main; 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother. 

Seeing, shall take heart again.*' 



It is not a noble mind that despises an honorable fame. 
Poets have labored to sing it out of existence, and essayists 
have written learnedly as to its vanity, but it is questionable 
whether they succeeded in convincing any considerable portion 
of mankind that their affected indifference about its posses- 
sion was real. A far more probable and perhaps just conclu- 
sion which their readers would draw, is, that the desire of 
the thing which they denounce as unworthy of human pur- 
suit, constituted the soul of their exertions. It has been 
pictured as a beautiful bubble which dissolves as soon as it 
is grasped — a light aerial thing that ceases with the breath 
which creates it. And one whose notes are often sublime, 

(200) 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 201 

and rise in grandeur as they flow in unison with the theme 
of the soul's immortality, joined company with less noble 
minds, when his harp discoursed : — 

*' What so foolish as the chase of fame ? 
How vain the prize ! how impotent our aim ! 
For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, 
But bubbles on the rapid stream of time ; 
That rise and fall, that swell and are no more, 
Born and forgot ten thousand in an hour." 

Minds which never rise to the comprehension of the 
beautiful and the exalted, and whose conceptions never 
compass the grandeur of their being, but range along that 
lowly path which begins in the cradle and terminates in the 
grave, have sometimes scouted the idea of its reality, and 
uttered the idiot's laugh at its utility. Satire, wit, philosophy, 
and religion, have at different times been marshalled into 
service for its extermination. And if this crusade has some- 
times been conducted by the disappointed and misanthropic, 
the virtuous and the wise have also occasionally lent their 
aid, that, if possible, this noble element of power and success 
in the human mind might be annihilated. But the presump- 
tion is as legitimate as it is charitable, that the great and the 
excellent who have labored to discourage its pursuit, waged 
their warfare not against an honorable fame, but against that 
which was baptized in its name, but was of mean parentage, 
and frail as the breath which gave it existence — a vicious 
counterfeit of the valuable coin, that enriched no one with a 
blessing. Those only who are afraid to live, could wish to 
die unmourned, unwept, and unsung. There are none, 



202 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

unless they have quenched the noblest aspirations of their 
souls, to whom the thought of falling into utter forgetfulness 
is not abhorrent. The spirit no more shudders at the idea 
of annihilation, than it shrinks appalled from the prospect of 
oblivion. 

To be thrown aside as the lifeless clod — to be cut off from 
the sympathies of this animated world — to have our images 
effaced from the minds of the living — all recollection of us 
blotted from human memory — wdth no golden thought — 
no living virtue — no breathing bond of endearment to bind 
us to those gentle spirits who survive us, and to those warm 
hearts which will throb around this earth when ours are pulse- 
less ; such rejSections would be at war with all the elements in 
our nature w^hich stamp the impress of endless duration upon 
our being. Born for immortality, all the yearnings and tenden- 
cies which thrill through the framework of our spiritual 
organization toil towards this high destiny. And as God 
has given to all things which He has formed the property of 
self-perpetuation, so has He also endowed the mind wdth 
capabilities through which the memory of its existence in this 
w^orld may be prolonged for years after it has been trans- 
ferred to that glorious field, where the sphere of its exertion 
is boundless as eternity. The influence of its intellectual 
creations and its moral offspring may flame along its path- 
w^ay through life, and so incorporate itself with the mass of 
human mind, that the light of its reflected glow will assist to 
illumine the world for generations to come. It is a tendency 
in our nature which should be fostered, not crushed; culti- 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 203 

vated, and not destroyed — it is not to be repressed, but aided 
and judiciously directed in its out-goings ; for it is the motive 
power of the soul, and lies at the foundation of all that 
is noble, good, and great. This desire for a worthy posthu- 
mous remembrance was the matrix in which were generated 
the conceptions of those political, social, and moral organiza- 
tions, which have made the world radiant with their blessings, 
and advanced the race far in its progress towards perfection. 
It is the w^omb in which all those intellectual creations, that 
have enriched us wdth the w^ealth of science, the treasures of 
philosophy, the benefits of law, and the blessings of ethics, 
w^ere warmed into life. It is therefore not unreasonable to 
maintain, that an honorable fame is a legitimate object of 
human pursuit, and w^orthy of the aspiration of those who 
have just conceptions of the dignity and destiny of man. 
Ambrose uttered the sentiment of the great and good when 
he said : '' For mine own part, I wish so to order my con- 
versation in the w^orld, that I may live when I am dead in 
the affections of the best, and leave an honorable testimony 
in the consciences of the w^orst ; that I may oppress none 
and do good to all ; that I may neither be ashamed to live 
nor afraid to die." 

But w^hat is an honorable fame ? I answer, that approba- 
tion and veneration w^hich mankind accord to an individual 
whose life and labors have resulted in the elevation and 
happiness of the race, and contributed to the advancement 
of the Divine glory. It is that distinction w^hich is associated 
with acts which either immediately or remotely promote the 



204 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

prosperity and permanency of the State, or the progress 
and the glory of the Church ; — with labors performed, whether 
intellectual, moral, or manual, W'hich are followed with visible 
good to the public. For w^hether it is the laying of the 
foundation of an empire, the making and administration of 
law, or the doing of that which adds strength and beauty to 
the social structure, the authors or promoters of such 
deeds are w^orthy of profound regard. It must not be sup- 
posed that an honorable posthumous fame is the product only 
of elevated stations, of rare intellectual gifts, of valuable 
discoveries, or extraordinary achievements, which enrol the 
name of the individual associated with them on the durable 
records of history. It need not be carved out by the sword, 
nor purchased with blood ; for if those germs of immortality 
which are found in every human bosom are but fostered and 
cultivated, each one may rear for himself an imperishable 
monument of virtues that will always command the esteem 
of mankind. The extent of its range is not essential to its 
existence ; a w^orld-wide circle need not be filled by those 
w^ho possess it. The gem that glitters far down in the un- 
fathomable depths of the ocean, and flames only to the eye 
of Him who formed it, is intrinsically as excellent as the 
diamond which sparkles in the imperial crow^n, and as valu- 
able in the estimation of its producer as the more conspicu- 
ous one that glows on the brow in which reside the destinies 
of a kingdom. Wherever the sphere of our exertions may 
lie, in the State or in the Church, whether in humble or 
exalted life, man carries wdthin himself the needful resources 



POSTHUMOUS FAME, 205 

to perpetuate his principles and memory. The world has, 
perhaps, never known such deep degeneracy as w^hoUy to 
w^ithhold its admiration from those w^ho distinguished them- 
selves in labors to benefit mankind. And, accordingly, w^e 
find that among all nations w^as merit rewarded ; and in all 
ages have those received expressions of public approbation 
whose labors for the general good were crowned with 
success. A nation's heroes and a nation's benefactors are 
enthroned side by side in her chronicles, and their merit is 
proclaimed by the erection of monuments of durable 
materials. Egypt has her pyramids ; and Greece and Rome 
have their memorials of intellectual triumphs ; and from the 
ruins of Nineveh shafts and columns are dug up, bearing 
records of the great and useful men who were identified with 
the leading events of their age. Such always has been, and 
such always will be, the sentiment of mankind. 

It is one among the loftiest instincts of our nature, to 
admire and love that which is exalted and great. The 
beauty of the landscape, the magnificence of the river, and 
the vastness of the sea, kindle in the mind elevated and 
pleasurable emotions. But, amid all that is great and glow- 
ing in the outspread gorgeousness of the universe, there is no 
object which awakens such thrilling and unearthly joy within 
us, as a human mind, girded with strength and robed with 
the majesty of breathing thought. Its ethereal glow is im- 
parted and transfused through our being, until a wild ecstacy 
dances along every fibre of our spiritual framework, and 
willing or unwilling, commands our homage. There is a 
18 



206 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

beauty in the winged cloud, and in the circling wave — there 
is a glory in the quiet stars, and in the flaming firmament — 
there is a power in those utterances which come from the 
awful shrines of nature — there is a grandeur in the storm- 
tossed ocean ; but there is a higher beauty, a more ravishing 
glory, a more subduing power, and a sublimer grandeur 
thrown around a s^eat intellect laborinof with a theme of 
corresponding dignity. Whether it be the mind of a Web- 
ster rising in the greatness of his intellectual strength, far 
above the range of ordinary thought, scattering from its 
faculties mountain obstacles which lie in the way to its 
conclusions, as the lion shakes the dew-drop from his mane ; 
bursting all the clogs and fetters which bind inferior capaci- 
ties to earth and self, and moving amid the peerless splendor 
of that sphere of deliberation, where the interests of party 
and the individual are shut out by purity, by honor, by 
patriotism, and right — or w^hether it be the mind of a 
Massillon, picturing the temptations, the follies, and vices of 
a licentious court, and pealing into the ears of his proud 
monarch the cutting declaration — "Sire, God alone is 
great!" we are constrained to do homage to the truly great, 
whenever and wherever the force of their genius is recalled. 
I refer to these eminent examples, simply to illustrate the 
point, that the laws and impulses of our being make it a 
necessary pleasure to honor the intellectually great. And 
the same elements in our nature demand a like tribute to 
the truly good. The instincts of humanity in this particular 
must be regarded as true and right, because sanctioned by 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 207 

reason, and endorsed by the universal consent of mankind. 
And where intellectual endowments are associated with moral 
goodness, their possessor will bequeath to his posterity a 
name clothed with a fragrant remembrance. The misguided 
genius may link his name wdth intellectual creations that flash 
with a bewildering glare through all coming time ; but if his 
life was productive of no good, and his talents were conse- 
crated to evil, his fame can only serve as a beacon-light, 
flickering on the midnight cliff where he wrecked his hopes, 
to warn other voyagers of the rocks which have destroyed a 
soul. But that those who were benefactors of their race, will, 
while the W'Orld stands, beneficially influence immortal minds, 
is susceptible of the clearest demonstration. Ihe names of 
Luther and Washington W'ill live forever! Their tombs are 
pilgrim shrines, whither men from all climes, kindreds, and 
tongues resort, to do reverence to the ashes of the distin- 
guished dead. And what magic power attracts these admi- 
ring crowds around their mouldering dust? Manifestly the 
recollection of their achievements. The one was that 
" solitary monk who shook the world," unchained the Bible, 
and conducted the church from a superstitious vassalage into 
light and freedom ; the other broke from our nation's limbs 
the shackles of oppression, and delivered us from a painful 
bondage. Therefore are the graves of these fathers of civil 
and religious freedom hallow^ed ground, because consecrated 
by the tears of nations, and enshrined in the affections of 
mankind. There may the victims of political and spiritual 
despotism rekindle their hopes. And to these shrines do 



208 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

those repair who are groaning under painful oppression, 
to catch from those ashes that inspiration which imde them 
a terror to all tyrants. Around these honored tombs do 
the yearnings of laboring nations gather, and from these 
centres radiate those influences w^hich kindled a quickening 
hope in the crushed and bleeding hearts of those, who now 
convulse the kingdoms of earth by lifting from the deep 
foundations of centuries and overturning the thrones of hoary 
despotism. 

And w^hy are the tombs of eminent civilians and ecclesi- 
astics, and numerous other citizens who were distino^uished 
for those qualities of mind and heart which made them use- 
ful, often strewed with fresh memorials of undying love ? Is 
it not because the man and the benefactor are remembered 
in his deeds ? Behold those crowds w^ho throng the cemetery 
to commune wath the dead ! See how^ they stand in groups 
around certain graves, and direct the attention of children to 
the decorated mounds! There is a reason for it; for there 
sleep those who baptized the w^orld w^ith the influences of a 
holy life, and who contributed to the intellectual, historical, 
or moral wealth of the nation. Therefore do parents recount 
the deeds of those to their children, and lay open to their 
view the road which conducts to an honorable distinction. 
And w^ouldest thou be remembered when the cumberers of 
earth are forgotten, and cherished after the wands of many 
years have sighed their requiems over thy grass-grown sepul- 
chre ? then let it be thy care now to build thy character of 
solid virtues, and thou wilt have a monument more durable 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 209 

than marble or brass. Let thy name live in useful enter- 
prises, in investments for the poor of thy community, for the 
instruction and salvation of the destitute, and it will go with 
thy benefactions and WTite itself in every heart befriended, 
and engrave itself on the memory of those souls who wdll 
make mention before the throne of God of the hand that 
snatched them from devouring flames. Bring thy treasures 
of mind, of influence, of silver and gold, and lay them at 
the feet of the great Redeemer, saying. Son of God, take 
these thine own gifts, bathe them with thy blood, and send 
them on their mission for thy honor ; and so shall your name 
live through the infinite circle of thy Saviour's glory. All 
the venerated dead enshrined themselves in the hearts of their 
contemporaries by lives of usefulness, and commended them- 
selves to the Divine favor by their virtues ; and, therefore, 
their deeds, like ^'the spikenard of the woman in the gospel, 
shall yet fill the world with their fragrance." If, therefore, 
an honorable posthumous fame may be obtained by moral 
goodness as w^ell as by intellectual greatness, then is it possi- 
ble for all to secure for themselves that kind of remembrance 
most valued among men, and which, like the precious gem, 
never tarnishes with age. It is peculiar to no sphere, but 
may grow" in private or in public, in humble or exalted life. 
It demands not the intellect of a Webster, nor the eloquence 
of a Clay, to earn it.. They are among the illustrious 
departed ; but not the only gems w^hich sparkle in our 
nation's diadem, nor the only stars that shine in that constel- 
lation of w^orthies, whose light guides others in the w\^y to 
18* 



210 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

glory. There may not be many the range of whose earthly 
fame is so extensive ; but, if they are just men, their 
*^ memory will be blessed." The individual who leads an 
upright and holy life imparts an influence to the world which 
will never die. 

Man, as he is sometimes viewed, is frail and evanescent. 
" Compared with many visible objects, man is ephemeral. 
Compared with the sun that shines over him — the air w^hich 
fans him — the ocean on which he floats, his ' duration is 
swift decay.' And there is much pensiveness in the thought 
of his own frailty. To look out, as we were last week look- 
ing, on the plenitude of summer — to view the field in its 
loveliness and the forest in its gorgeous glory — to inhale 
the fragrance of roses mingling with earth's ripeness, and 
think how soon our eyes must shut forever on that landscape 
— how soon aromatic breezes and blushing flowers shall stir 
no animation in our tombs ; in such contemplations there is 
a deep pathos, and to surrender the spirit to their habitual 
mastery would be to live a life of constant melancholy." 
Truly would such meditations, iiot associated w^ith the 
durable elements in man, beget those sweetly sad emotions 
w^hich are breathed in Tennyson's ^' Farewell to the Brook." 

" Flow down cold rivulet to the sea, 
Thy tribute wave deliver ; 
No more by thee my steps shall be, 
Forever and forever. 

** But here will sigh thine alder- tree, 
And here thine aspen shiver ; 
And here by thee will hum the bee, i 

Forever and forever. 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 211 

*' A thousand suns will stream on thee, 
A thousand moons will quiver ; 
But not by thee my steps shall be, 
Forever and forever." 

But the virtuous and great will live in the remembrance 
and homage of mankind. If indestructibility is a property 
of matter, so is it also of thoughts, of words, and of deeds. 
Every exalted sentiment, every pious word, every charitable 
act, carries within itself a procreative power. xVnd as the 
seed only requires a soil, air, moisture, and light, to repro- 
duce unnumbered harvests of its kind, so are the spiritual 
emanations of man freighted with the germs of other harvests 
which shall grow on the intellectual and moral fields of 
humanity. It is impossible that a man should live without 
exerting a determining influence upon others, inasmuch as 
his actions do not, and cannot, terminate upon himself. 
As the body of one who is wasting away under a pestilen- 
tial disease emits an invisible but offensive odor, and imparts 
to the atmosphere such a noxious taint that the visitor to his 
chamber cannot long remain without contracting the malady, 
so does the depraved man send out an unseen, but felt 
influence, that vitiates and destroys souls. In accordance 
with the same law does the holy man throw off an impercep- 
tible moral power, which enlarges its circle of influence and 
multiphes in its blessings to the end of time. None, how- 
ever humble his mission, leaves the world as he found it : he 
gives it the impress of his character, and vitalizes it to a 
greater or less extent with his own spirit ; so that long 
after he is gathered to his fathers, the desires which once 



212 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

throbbed only in his bosom, and the principles that once con- 
trolled only his mind, will have become a part of those moral 
influences which will shape the destiny of generations to 
come. 

The truth of this strUement was obscurely present to the 
consciousness of those even upon whom the light of revela- 
tion had not dawned. The theology of the ancient Egyptians 
recognized a vital and indestructible principle in virtue. But 
among all those who w^ere chiefly indebted to the light of 
reason and philosophical conjecture for their knowdedge, 
none have expressed themselves with such beauty and sub- 
limity as the Parsis. Helvetius informs us, that at the burial 
of a distinguished citizen, a funeral oration was pronounced, 
and the subjoined service uttered over the tomb of the 
departed. " O, earth ! ! common mother of human 
beings, take back w-hat to thee appertaineth of the body of 
this hero ; let the aqueous particles that flowed in his veins 
exhale into the air, and falling in rain on the mountains, 
replenish the streams, fertilize the plains, and roll back to the 
abyss of the ocean w^hence they proceeded ! Let the fire 
concentrated in this body rejoin the heavenly orb, the source 
of light and heat ! Let the air confined in his members, 
burst its prison, and be diffused by the mundane space ! And 
lastly thou, O, breath of life, if perchance thou art of a nature 
separate from all others, return to the unknown being that 
produced thee ; or, if thou art only a mixture of various ele- 
ments, mayst thou, after being dispersed in the universe, 
again assemble thy scattered particles, to form another citizen 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 213 

as virtuous as this has been." Is there not, in these subhme 
images and noble sentiments of this people, a dim recognition 
of the fact, that the spiritual influences thrown off from man's 
intellectual and moral natures perish not, but go out upon 
their endless mission of benefactions to mankind. The same 
thought is expressed in the forcible and eloquent tribute of 
our own Webster, to the memory of one of his associate and 
rival senators. " A superior and commanding intellect, and 
truly great man, when heaven vouchsafes so rare a gift, is not 
a temporary flame, burning bright for a while, and then 
expiring, giving place to returning darkness. It is rather a 
spark of fervent heat as well as radiant light, with power to 
enkindle the common mass of human mind ; so that when 
it glimmers in its own decay, and finally goes out in death, no 
night follows, but it leaves the world all light, all on fire, 
from the potent contact of its own spirit. Bacon died, but 
the human understanding, roused by the touch of his miracu- 
lous wand to a perception of the true philosophy, and the just 
mode of inquiring after truth, has kept on its course success- 
fully and gloriously. Newton died, yet the courses of the 
spheres are still known, and they yet move on in the orbits 
which he saw and described for them in the infinity of 
space." 

x\nd if such is the force and destiny of a massive human 
intellect, that it incorporates itself with the aggregate mind 
of earth, living from age to age in breathing thoughts and 
exalted sentiments, is it not equally true, that moral goodness 
has the elements of an immortality co-enduring with the 



214 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

products of the understanding? Aye, the greatest purely 
intellectual offspring, even of Webster, would be destined to 
perish, if not sooner, in the fires of a consuming world, that 
will reduce all monuments, records, and histories to ashes, 
had he not bound by a living faith his fleeting existence to 
the Immutable and Eternal. He was never greater than 
when, he comprehended and confessed his weakness, and 
clung to his Saviour, uttering his conviction of the truth of 
God's promises in his own language — ^' That rod! that 
rod,"— ''That staff! that staff" — "That is what they 
want — that is what they want," in passing from this to that 
nobler existence which opens in a boundless eternity. His 
moral goodness is the element of perpetuity in his world — 
wide, his honorable and everlasting fame. 

And how much more than the Parsis to whom I referred, 
may we from v;hom Christianity has lifted the veil of darkness 
and doubt, and in whom it imparts its own undying exis- 
tence to all the moral products that flow from it, say to those 
virtues which adorned the character of a deceased friend, and 
to the influences w^hich have radiated from him who was '' a 
light of the world;" go, ye offspring of the gospel and the 
Holy Ghost, on your errands of blessing through the empire 
of charity, and unite in other souls, and when the earth has 
been renovated, humanity recovered and beautified with 
salvation, return to the infinite fountain of all good, from 
whom you proceeded. 

A marked and beautiful feature in the economy of the 
Divine government is, that those blessings which are abso- 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 215 

lately essential to the happiness and perfection of our being, 
are indiscriminately bestowed upon all, while others that may 
or may not be made subservient to the welfare of an immortal 
spirit, are given to the few. For example : the air, the sun- 
shine, and water are indispensable to our existence, and 
these are furnished freely and abundantly to all ; whereas, 
those rare intellectual gifts that elevate their possessor far 
above the masses, are vouchsafed to the few, because not 
necessary to the attainment of happiness. While, therefore, 
intellectual eminence is reached by a comparatively small 
number, the invaluable blessings comprehended in a life of 
honorable actions, of benevolence and holiness, may be 
enjoyed as abundantly by all, as the air we breathe and the 
light which falls so profusely around us. The disciple 
^^ whom Jesus loved," was doubtless intellectually inferior to 
some of the others, and that which won for him a higher 
place in the affections of the Master, was unquestionably his 
moral goodness. Being naturally of an amiable disposition, 
the powers of his soul were harmoniously developed under 
the genial warmth of the Saviour's love, until all the graces 
of a lofty excellence blended and glowed in his character. 
And while it would neither be desirable, nor tend to the 
general good, were all men endowed with like mental 
capacities, it is important to the glory of God that all may 
attain that style of moral excellence which exalts man into 
sympathy with the noble and good of all ages, and to fellow- 
ship with Jehovah. It is not needful to the excellence, 
harmony, and efficiency of the organism of nature, that there 



216 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

should be a greater number of high mountains, large rivers, 
lakes, and seas, than those which the Almighty hand has 
fashioned ; and it is not in themselves, but as they are set off 
by hills of a less altitude, streams of a smaller compass, and 
all these by plains and valleys, that we have beauty, because 
variety. And not only is this diversity in the material world 
essential to the comeliness of the picture which it offers to the 
eye, but the mutual dependence that subsists between the 
ditferent parts which make up the creation, gives utility to 
the entire work. In like manner has God ordained in human 
society a diversity of gifts and vocations, sustaining such 
relations to each other, and so blended in their interests, that 
when they fulfil their respective missions, they reflect the 
wisdom of their Sovereign and promote the happiness of all. 
And while He has assigned to the few the grandeur of the 
mountain, to some the magnificence of the river, and to 
others the lowliness and fragrance of the violet and lily. He 
sheds upon all the light of His countenance and the dews of , 
His grace, that all may flourish in the beauty of holiness, and 
reflect back to the giver an image of His own loveliness. 

It is, therefore, manifest that all may become useful, virtu- 
ous, and acceptable to God; and if such be their privilege, 
then may all so live as to be aflfectionately remembered when 
dead. And this should be one of the great objects of life 
w^ith every individual. Contempt for the community which 
is the sphere of our exertions, and of mankind in general, is 
no evidence of wisdom or talent, but proof of ignorance or 
baseness. For man cannot disregard the esteem of others 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 217 

until he has first divested himself of those honorable senti- 
ments and feelings of self-respect, which cannot be lost with- 
out vitiating the character. And while there are not many 
who may aspire to that illustrious distinction, that extensive 
and brilliant renown which is properly the inheritance only 
of a few, I would say to the youth of industry and talent : 
Start in the race of life wdth the determination to rise to the 
highest point to which the energy and capacity of your mind 
will carry you. When you have reached that elevation, you 
will be contented, for you have filled the measure of your 
duty. And although no imperial crown shall glitter upon these 
brows, and no obsequious courtiers surround us in the atti- 
tude of menials, we may so endear ourselves to the circles 
in which we move, and so incorporate our enterprise, 
benevolence, and purity, in the body of the social structure, 
that a fragrant remembrance will survive us when gone to 
wear a fadeless diadem of glory. The man of aflfluence may 
transmit his name to the latest posterity by the erection of 
hospitals, the endowing of institutions of learning, and by 
building houses of worship. William Penn, by a prudent 
reservation of land in Delaware, affords facilities for intellect- 
ual culture to the present generation. A gentleman in 
England has recently devoted eighty thousand pounds to the 
erection of Christian chapels; and our own Lawrence, and 
many others, have left memorials of their enlightened zeal 
and benevolent spirit, in making provision for the wants of 
the indigent and friendless. That man who bends his exer- 
tions to the elevation of his race cannot be neglected or for- 
19 



218 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

gotten. And it should be a source of profound gratitude that 
the in«tincts of nature prompt us to honor the memory of the 
useful and great. For it is this appreciation of merit on the part 
of mankind that encourages the young to imitate the example 
of those whose honors they would share. I regard, there- 
fore, the discharge of duties and the exertion of a man's 
faculties in such a manner as to secure for him an honorable 
fame, perfectly legitimate, and in accordance with the lessons 
of Christianity. The gospel is not designed to give new 
attributes to our nature, nor to throw out of our constitution 
the elements which it there finds, and especially one so 
potent that its extinction would cause every enterprise to 
flag, and the wheels of progress to stand still; but its office 
is to purify all the generous impulses of our nature, and lead 
them forth attired with the ornaments of Divine grace, and 
direct them to such efforts as will benefit man and glorify 
God. 

As the truly good or great man desires only such posthu- 
mous remembrance as is fitted to incite others to exertions 
that may result in permanent good to mankind, so in w^hat- 
ever offspring of his mind or heart his memory is perpetuated, 
he accomphshes the end of his toils. He would live in the 
affections of others not from motives of vanity, but that the 
recollections of his struggles and triumphs may become to 
some other weary travellers who follow in the race of life, 
w^hat the achievements of the good of form^er times are to 
him — a means of refreshment and encouragement when 
oppressed with the burdens of his vocation. 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 219 

Who that has ever struggled with difficulties until dis- 
pirited because everything transpired adversely to his hopes, 
and the wheels of human machinery seemed out of joint, so 
that its music grated harshly on his sensibilities, and then 
took down from the shelf the Holy Book, or some other 
record which brought him into communion with men who 
had travelled the same path, and overcome those very 
obstacles that brought him to a stand-still, has not gathered 
strength to start afresh and successfully keep on in that road 
which had appeared to him in that moment of depression 
swept by torments and obstructed by mountains ? Who can 
estimate the number of those who have been taught the 
omnipotent energy of faith, by the recorded trial of Abraham? 
How many young men has the example of the inflexibly 
chaste Hebrew youth who w^as tempted to commit crime in 
the house of Potiphar, kept back from shame and '' the path 
of the destroyer?" With what child-like and unshaken trust 
in the goodness of an overruling Providence, does the history 
of Elijah and that of the w^idow of Sarepta inspire those w^ho 
are under the hard pressures of poverty? What millions 
have found in the experience of David, so touchingly des- 
cribed in his Psalms, the inward distresses, sorrows and con- 
flicts of their own souls, and by treading in his footsteps have 
been conducted to the sources of healing, and to the fountains 
of spirhual joy ? Where is the sufferer w^ho may not profit 
in the school of Job ? Who has not approached wdth a 
holier boldness and a stronger confidence the throne of grace 
after communion with Hannah, with Joshua, and Daniel ? 



220 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

And who knows how much the example of Moses may have 
contributed to the success of our Washington, who trusted in 
God and the righteousness of our cause? If we need models 
of purity, of benevolence, and of patriotism to animate us, 
the records of the past are full of illustrious names. That 
cloud of witnesses of the holy departed the Apostle exhorts 
us to regard as patterns of excellence, and we should as 
reluctantly attempt to strike one of these from the moral 
firmament, as we would one of the luminaries which shines 
in the canopy of heaven ; for they relieve the world of its 
moral gloom, as the stars do the earth of natural darkness. 
And in like manner are those important to the living who did 
not rise to the intellectual and moral elevation of Patriarchs, 
Prophets, and Apostles, but who served God in an honorable 
capacity. 

Individuals who have acquired large wealth, are mostly 
possessed of fine intellectual capacities, which make them 
comprehensive and far-reaching in their calculations ; and if 
they are the followers of Him " who was rich, but for our 
sakes became poor," they will in their recognition of the true 
source of their prosperity, feel their high responsibility, and 
make such a disposition of a portion of their property, that it 
may flow down through all time in streams of blessing, and 
shed a moral grandeur over the wide bosom of eternity. An 
individual establishes and sustains a mission in a heathen 
land, and multitudes will rise around the throne of judgment 
to pronounce him blessed. The Sabbath School System was 
once a conception, as the universe was once a thought, and 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 221 

the originator has linked his name with a brilliant immortality. 
Thousands of immortal minds have been raised from a foul 
obscurity, and transferred from paths of ruin to the path of 
peace, by the '' Ragged School ;" but it also sprang from a 
benevolent mind. What a monument of enlightened zeal 
and well-directed piety is the Bible Society ! Its founders 
have long since gone to their reward, but their instrumentality 
sheds light and salvation over our sin-stricken earth. The 
ample charities and generous aid of affluent Christians have 
given to the country brilliant intellects, which now shine on 
the watch-towers of freedom and the walls of Zion, presiding 
over the interests of religion, and controlling the destinies of 
the nation. And are not those whose generous instrumen- 
tality has gemmed our national history with some of its bright- 
est jewels, by furnishing the world patriotic statesmen, gifted 
artists, and eloquent divines, worthy of everlasting remem- 
brance ? Aye, they cannot be forgotten — their names shall not 
die ! No ! not as long as thought survives, for their fame 
will be co-enduring with the immortality of that intellectual 
and moral wealth which they w-ere instrumental in pouring 
upon the altars of their country and its Divine Sovereign. 

There are those, however, whose inability to do something 
great inclines them to do nothing at all. This is a mistaken 
view of duty. God's care has accompanied the widow's 
mite, so that it has produced its millions. He looks with 
approbation not only on the will to do good, but also 
furnishes the link to bind us in that cliain of iniluences which 
shall yet regenerate the world. That lit lie congregational 
19* 



222 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

circle of ladies toiling for the poor at home and abroad, is 
known in heaven, and contemplated with interest by angels 
as co-workers with God and His holy ones in the great work 
of redemption. Many schools are sustained in heathen lands 
by the earnings of these societies. These cast their bread 
upon the waters with regrets that they can sow^ so small a 
harvest; but the revelations of the final day will show that 
these little efforts have wrought stupendous results. The 
little copper and silver of the missionary-box will yet be con- 
templated in the wealth of eternal glory. Courage, ye little 
bands, so often tempted to discontinue your efforts ; for those 
stitches will make white robes for heathen souls, and the 
Holy Spirit will transform those penny contributions into 
crowns of gold, and your tears into sparkling gems, to adorn 
those who are the objects of your charity. All can do some- 
thing to keep their memories green. If not possessed of the 
needful wealth to do a work which demands a large outlay, 
unite with kindred spirits like the drops which form the 
rivulet, and you will create a stream that will widen its 
channel and multiply in its blessings as it flows. Do some- 
thing for your country, for the race, and for Christ. Have you 
a child ? You can consecrate it to God, and train it for useful- 
ness. If you have none, take an orphan from the Lord's 
family of poor ; bestow upon it the tenderness of a mother, 
or the care of a father, and you will live in it ; and in the 
day of retribution Jesus will say, "Inasmuch as ye have 
done this unto one of these little ones, ye have done it unto 
me." If you can do no more, leave to your posterity a 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. 223 

pious example, and you will bequeath to mankind a legacy 
more valuable than gold, yea, than much fine gold," 
unaccompanied with moral excellence. For as the influence 
of none is so insignificant that he may not mould some 
character after the pattern of his own, so every one who con- 
secrates himself to God through our instrumentality consti- 
tutes a living monument to our memory. We die, but our 
characters live as representatives of our vices or virtues. Of 
the first martyr on holy record it is written : ^' He being 
dead, yet speaketh." ^' Enoch walked with God," and his 
example encourages others to toil for the same honorable 
distinction. We may secure a ^' good name, which is more 
precious than rubies" — a name whose effulgence may fill 
the canopy of exalted life, or diffiise its fragrance around 
the walks of the lowly ; and, like the flower hid by ranker 
grasses, its vsweetness will reveal the place of its seclusion. 
Faith, hope, and charity, uniting in human character, invest 
it with sublime energy, and cause its influence to vibrate 
along those golden chords of love which hold in unison 
Jehovah with the subjects of His empire. Thus a pure hear': 
exults not merely in its conscious elevation into the sympa- 
thies of the intelhgent universe, but itself becomes a fountain 
where waters of life spring up and flow out to gladden a 
weary world. The granite rock yields particle after particle, 
as its just tribute to the great law of mutation, until the 
immense pile has dissolved like snow; but a good name 
stands unimpaired through this process of change, for its 
foundations repose upon the rock of immutable truth, and. 



224 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

built of virtues as imperishable as their Author, the noble 
structure will not be enfeebled by the weight and moss of 
centuries, but partake more and more of the changeless 
nature of that eternity into which it rises sublimely and 
gloriously. 

Such are the properties of an honorable posthumous fame, 
that each one may possess it to the full measure of his capa- 
city. And w^hile the exalted statesman lives in, and is 
honored for the creation of those laws which are the sinews 
of the body politic, and for those moral qualities wdth w^hich 
he healthfully animates the commonwealth, the gentle dew^s 
of a mother's love may shine forever as gems of richest lustre 
in her child hard by the throne of God, and, after the records 
on adamant shall have melted in the fires of the last day, 
those lessons written by the potent touch of her influence on 
immortal minds, wdll remain bright and glorious. It is a 
prize w^hich would more than compensate the sleepless toil 
of ten thousand ages. It is a boon w^orthy of the great God 
who offers it. Enter then in earnest upon its pursuit — fill, 
if you can, earth and heaven with your fame, but have a care 
that it is honorable. Drop along the w^alks of daily Hfe, kind 
words and noble deeds ; for these are the blocks which must 
compose the pile that is to point to coming travellers the 
path to glory. SomeW'here there is a tomb with this inscrip- 
tion — '^ What I have saved, I have lost ; w^hat I gave away, 
I have." And this will one day be the experience of all, 
and true not only of their charities, but also of the wealth of 
their virtues. For only that life which imparts its blessing 



POSTHUMOUS FAME. ''I'lo 

to others, is crowned with peace ; those only who have 
^' served theii* day and generation according to the w^ll of 
God," wdll be kindly cherished when they rest from their 
labors. There is animation in the thought,, that w^hen others 
shall linger around our tombs, they may recall judicious 
counsels, faithful instructions, and noble deeds ; and that our 
very ashes may kindle hope and energy in minds unborn. 
There is a glory in every conquest which the Christian makes 
over the world and his corruptions, that I see nowhere else. 
The interests that enter into the conflict are so commanding 
in their issues, the enemies so formidable, the consequences 
of failure so tremendous, and the blessings of success so 
immeasurably great, that w'hile I w^atch his struggles, all the 
sympathies of my being kindle into burning, and I could 
shout with all the intensity of my soul into his ears, 
courage my brother, life. Eternal Life is the prize. The 
mind is always glorious in lofty action or sublime contempla- 
tion, but never glows with such an unearthly grandeur, as 
when she hopes, prays, and toils for eternity. Laboring in 
unison with the Eternal, with her eye fixed on a resplendent 
immortality, she gathers strength and glory as chord after 
chord w^hich binds the noble captive to earth is snapped, 
until the last that detains her is severed, and she ascends 
amid the hallelujahs of ministering angels to the bosom of 
God. It is announced for the encouragement of the good 
and great — " Then they that feared the Lord spake often one 
to another ; and the Lord hearkened and heard it, and 
a book of remembrance w^as w^ritten before him, for them that 



226 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

feared- the Lord, and that thought upon his name. And they 
shall be mine, saith the Lord, in that day when I make up 
my jewels, and I will spare them as a man that spareth his 
own son that serveth him." And may we all rise to that 
sublime view of our nature and destiny, that in all our pur- 
suits after inferior good, we may breathe the utterances of a 
gifted poet : 

"Attempt how vain, 
With things of earthly sort, with aught but God, 
With aught but moral excellence, truth and love — 
To satisfy and fill the immortal soul ! 
To satisfy the ocean with a drop ; 
To marry immortality to death. 
And with the unsubstantial shade of time 
To fill the embrace of all eternity." * 

And under the force of this conviction we will seek the 
light of the Divine favor, and, united to Him, w^e shall be 
enshrined in the being of God, and live forever. 



CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

There is no place where Christianity glows with such a 
Divine lustre, and where its consolations are so precious and 
sublime, as at the grave where we commit a cherished one to 
rest. Its hopes loom out upon the gloom that oppresses the 
heart there as the sun when it bursts full-orbed through the 
dark storm-clouds which obscure the canopy of heaven. 
However much we may have pondered the mysteries of the 
gospel and appreciated its lessons, w^e can never understand 
its priceless value so fully as when its light bursts through 
our clouds of dark calamity, and spans them with the bow 
of promise, as its rays are reflected by our tears. We 
may have often heard and read the blessed announce- 
ment '' that Christ brought life and immortality to light," 
but there we feel it. We may have admired that charming 
promise, '' When thou goest through the waters I w^ill be with 
thee, and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee ; 
when thou walkest through the fire thou shalt not be burnt, 
neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord 
thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." But, inef- 
fably more precious did we find this promise in our deep 
afflictions, when our souls felt the conscious presence and 

(227) 



228 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

support of the everlasting arms underneath us. As the rose 
gives out its most delicious fragrance when it is crushed, so 
do the promises of God breathe their healing balm most 
effectually when pressed upon hearts broken with sorrow. 
We do not marvel that' the poor bereaved Pagan should be 
inconsolable ; for there is no power in his religion to disperse 
the clouds which hang around the grave — all is shrouded in 
impenetrable gloom. No voice utters words of hope from 
the mysterious spirit-world. No messenger comes to him, 
to tell of a bright and glorious future. To him eternity is a 
boundless, dark expanse, where the light of reason goes out, 
and no star of hope burns. His religion contains not one 
lesson to relieve and comfort his grief-stricken heart; it has 
nothing wherewith to reconcile him to his loss. He may 
call Socrates and Plato to his aid, and consult the maxims of 
other philosophers, but they will leave him as hopeless and 
miserable as ever. They may, indeed, exhort him to exer- 
cise submission to an inevitable necessity, and extol forti- 
tude under trials as an exalted virtue ; but, what is there 
in all this to cure heart-sorrow ? — what are all these 
sublime teachings of the ancient sages worth, in the hour 
of bereavement and death ? They comfort no mourner 
— they lift no sorrow from the heart — they soothe or heal 
no anguished spirit. It is true their mythologies speak of 
Elysian fields, ornamented with all that can gratify the senses ; 
but notwithstanding the wild and romantic pictures with 
which glowing imaginations have peopled the future home of 
the heathen, there is nothing real — nothing to fill the soul 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 229 

with assurance of immortal good. For whatever fields of 
science, of literature, and of philosophy, we may explore, 
we shall find no plant that grows in these possessed of such 
virtues as quiet a distressed bosom ; for only the balm of 
Gilead can mollify and heal the wounds of a stricken soul 
But whatever causes there may be for the distress of the 
poor benighted and bereaved heathen, these should not disturb 
the Christian. His sky may be shrouded in thick dark- 
ness, but the star of Bethlehem still shines in the midst of it. 
Storms of affliction may beat long and loud around him ; but 
as wave after wave breaks over his soul, he hears the accents 
of a well-known voice, '' Be not afraid, it is I." The tomb 
may have its gloom, but light falls from the cross to illumine 
the dark mansion. 

Thus far, I have endeavored to oflfer to the consideration 
of the reader those lessons of instruction which the sepulchre 
is so eminently fitted to suggest, and which, because invested 
w^ith the solemnities of the final hour, should be impressively 
felt. I trust that the fact has been established, that, while it 
bereaves us of our treasures, it compensates us in some 
measure for the losses sustained by the instruction it aflTords. 
But while it is capable of enriching the mind with lessons of 
wisdom, and of inciting us to increased exertions in all that 
can elevate and dignify the soul, and qualify it for the exalted 
destiny which lies before it, the sepulchre also offers lessons, 
which are consolatory and soothing to the distressed. To 
those whose lot is cast amid the influences of Christianit)^,' 
and who are permitted to contemplate all things under the 
20 



280 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

light of revelation, there can be nothing which may not 
become to them a messenger of good. Let us then devoutly 
interrogate the sepulchre in the light, and with the assistance 
of the holy oracles of God; — that Book which is truly said 
to be " Heaven's best gift and surest guide to man." 

*^ Most wondrous book ! Bright candle of the Lord ! 
Star of eternity ! only star 
By which the bark of man could navigate 
The sea of life, and gain the coast of bliss 
Securely ! only star which rose on time, 
And, on its dark and troubled billows, still, 
As generation drifting swiftly by, 
Succeeded generation, threw a ray 
Of Heaven's own light, and to the hills of God, 
The eternal hills, pointed the sinner's eye. 
This Book, this holy book, on every line 
Marked with the seal of high divinity ; 
On every leaf bedew'd with drops of love 
Divine, and with th' eternal heraldry 
And signature of God Almighty stamped 
From first to last, this ray of sacred light, 
This lamp from off the everlasting throne, 
Mercy took down, and in the night of time 
Stood casting on the dark her gracious bow ; 
And evermore beseeching men with tears 
And earnest sighs, to read^ believe, and live^ 

This star burns so brilliantly in our moral firmament, that it 
sheds light into the tomb, and causes the ashes of our 
departed to glow with immortality. It directs our thoughts 
from the lowliness of the sepulchre, to those hills of life which 
are radiant with immortal bloom, and from the darkness of 
the grave to the ineffable glory of the world to ccme. Aye, 
it is the Bible, with its revelations of another and a higher 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 231 

state of existence, and its records of Him who went down 
into the chambers of death, and in the domain of the king of 
terrors won for himself and his follow^ers a conquest over the 
dreaded tyrant, that makes the grave to believers a pleasant 
retreat from the turmoils of earth, and a place of peaceful 
repose from their labors. The Bible has endowed the tomb 
with speech, so that its utterances to bereaved souls are 
messao^es of consolation. Gathered in thouj^ht around the 
still but A^enerable abodes of our loved ones, we hear from 
the awful shrines of the dead, as the first lesson of consolation, 
that the inmates of the sepulchre rest in peace. 

<< There is a calm for those who weep, 
A rest for weary pilgrims found ; 
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, 
Low in the ground." 

Who has not felt a charm like that of angel melodies 
floating over his soul, as he stood by the open grave into 
which the remains of a weary pilgrim had been laid, 
and over which the words were uttered, ''Blessed are 
the dead who die in the Lord ; yea, saith the spirit, 
from henceforth ; for they rest from their labors and 
their works do follow them." As he was not united to 
us by any closer ties than those of humanity and religion, the 
heart is not steeped in that grief which overwhelms the soul 
when a family bond is broken, and therefore feels more im- 
pressively and deeply the force of this blessed assurance. 
The mind of the spectator is just sufficiently solemnized, and 
is in that quiet calm, when the finer sensibilities of our nature 



232 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

vibrate in sweet response to lofty and touching sentiments. 
And to one in such a frame, the words quoted fall upon his 
placid spirit as if spoken fresh from the throne of God, and 
still redolent with the soft and grief-quieting influences of 
heaven. The contrast is so marked — the change so impres- 
sive ! But yesterday I stood by the bed where lay in anguish 
this brother mortal. I held his fevered hand in mine ; 1 
moistened his parched lips, and cooled his burning brow. 
I still see the imploring look for help, while disease ran like 
liquid fire through his veins, and his whole frame quivered 
with anguish as he cried, ^' Lord, hasten my redemption, and 
give me rest." And now the harp, that groaned discordant 
notes of pain, lies shattered, but will again be strung to 
discourse the lofty strains of redeeming love in heaven. 

Yes, they are truly blessed who have overcome and fallen 
asleep in Jesus. And there are moments of sore pressure, 
of weariness and of pain, when we could wish the last con- 
flict over, that we might also repose in the peaceful grave. 
It is true, that human nature clings fondly to life, and even 
makes us willing to exist amid the wrecks of our happiness 
and hopes, under the pressure of poverty and sickness, 
uncared for, and unbefriended ; but it does not, therefore, 
follow that such would not be happier if resting in the tomb. 
For this love of life is a law of our being, wisely ordained for 
the good of society, and designed to prevent persons from 
rushing unbidden into the presence of a holy God. But is not 
this reluctance to surrender our breath also intended to sub- 
serve a yet higher purpose ? Are not the operations of this 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 233 

law, which holds man with such a firm grasp to this fleeting 
existence, premonitions, or echoes of his immortality? And 
are not the dying, themselves, conscious that the dissolution 
of the soul and body terminates not. the existence of the 
spirit ? If not, w^hat mean those outcries of terror, or those 
rapturous utterances which break from the pillows of the 
dying! 0! it is the unfitness, or fitness, of individuals to 
endure those eternal realities which break in their terrific or 
sublime grandeur upon the vision of the soul, that causes 
those scenes of distress and joy which we sometimes witness 
in the chambers of death. And, while there is nothing to 
console in the case of unhappy departures but the conviction 
that a just Sovereign is on the throne, and that they pass into 
the hands of a merciful God, there is every thing to assure us 
of the blessedness of those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. 
The relations which joined them to a laboring and suflTering 
world are all dissolved, and they have uttered their eternal 
farewell to sickness, sorrow, and pain. They now enjoy 
unclouded peace and undisturbed tranquillity ; and is not 
this a very precious consolation to surviving friends ? 

Could we wish the weather-beaten mariner, who has just 
crossed the threshold of his home, and is now locked in the 
embraces of his family, back again upon the stormy seas, and 
amid the dashing waves and pelting storms through which 
he has passed with much suflTering and with great peril ? 
Nay, w^e rather pronounce him blessed, and congratulate him 
on having safely reached his port and his home. Had we 
the power, would we command that friend, who has been 
20* 



234 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

stretched upon a bed of languishing and pain for months and 
years, but who is just risen up, and is for the first time abroad 
upon a bright morning, rejoicing like an uncaged bird 
while breathing the pure air of heaven, back to his couch, 
and assign him yet, other sleepless nights and days of pain ? 
Ah, no ! it is with emotions of joy, as if ourselves had been 
relieved of a painful burden, that we press his emaciated 
hand, and welcome him back to the pleasures of society, to 
health and to business. And should we be less considerate 
and kind to those dear departed ones, w^ho, though long tem- 
pest-tossed, have at last reached the haven of eternal repose? 
No, we cannot desire their return to other scenes of trial, or 
to make a second voyage over the ocean of life, w^hich heaves 
w^ilh so many sorrow-s, and is filled wuth so many rocks and 
shoals upon w^hich eternal hopes are often wrecked. Neither 
could we wish those beloved ones back to this vale of tears, 
who were known as great but patient suflferers among us, but 
whose spirits at length burst the prison that confined them, 
and soared to yonder glorious w^orld where the inhabitants 
shall no more say they are sick, and where they now rejoice in 
the sunshine of a Saviour's love, and inhale an atmosphere 
W'hich thrills their being w^ith immortal raptures. No, our 
w^ell beloved, but sainted ones, the Bible has thrown such 
attractions over that world of light and immortality, that we 
count those happy who have reached those bhssful shores. 
The quiet tomb w^here your bodies sleep is a precious em- 
blem of the rest of your spirits from all that afflicted you on 
earth. For you, all sorrows, disappointments, and w^oes are 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 26b 

ended. No more shall ye languish and pine on a foreign 
shore in exile and in pain ; for ye are at home, forever home. 
Ye have no more losses to mourn, no partings to endure, no 
temptations to resist, no sins to bewail. 

We still painfully remember our fears and your increasing 
infirmities, parents of our love, as we saw you passing from 
the summer into the evening of life. How you yourselves 
even seemed surprised as your strength abated and your eyes 
grew dim, and thus broken with age you sought the support 
of those arms to which you had given life, to assist you in 
your slow progress to the shade of that elm which your own 
hands had planted. And there, as we sat together, and 
looked out over the landscape, so changed by cultivation 
from its appearance in former years, you spoke to us of by- 
gone days, of the goodness of Providence, and the com- 
panions of your youth. One by one, their friends had passed 
away, until they stood the lonely representatives of a former 
generation, like a few oaks that had withstood the storm 
which prostrated the forest. Fondly did we cling around 
those venerable forms, and earnestly as ever did we treasure 
up the lessons of wisdom which fell from the lips of our 
honored parents. But every day added to their feebleness, 
until all those images of extreme frailty, so glowingly pictured 
by Solomon, were visible upon them. The almond tree was 
flourishing, the grasshopper became a burden, desire failed, 
and the golden bowl was about to be broken ; and conscious 
that they would soon go to their long home, they often 
uttered that touching petition of David — '' Cast me not off 



236 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

in the time of my old age, forsake me not when my strength 
faileth." Well do I remember that summer evening, when, 
for the last time, we surveyed together the scenes around that 
cherished home ; and vivid is the impression of that last 
utterance that we heard from your lips, as your eyes follow^ed 
the descending sun : " The path of the just is as a shining 
light, W'hich shineth more and more, until the perfect day." 
We w^atched through your sickness, and strove to alleviate 
those sufferings which we could not command away; and in 
your decline and exit from this world, we felt the force of the 
declaration, " the years of our pilgrimage are three-score 
years and ten, and if by reason of strength diey be four-score ; 
yet is their strength labor and sorrow, for it is soon cut off 
and w^e fly away," But ye have gone to the grave, and w^e 
will not deplore you, for now you are at rest ; and having 
served your day and generation according to the wull of God,, 
ye have fallen asleep, and are gathered with your fathers, 
while your instructions and example remain to guide us on- 
w^ard in that path which leads from the grave to glory. 

Fresh in our minds are your sufferings, cherished com- 
panions, fond sisters, and noble brothers. Are you a husband, 
dear reader, and do you mourn the gentle partner of your 
bosom? How unutterably sad is your condition! How 
incalculable your loss! Alas! who can enter that home, 
from w^hich the sunshine, the music, and the smiles of a 
beloved wife and mother have fled, without realizing that a 
dark calamity has befallen that family, and spread a gloom 
over that scene which painfully affects every observer ? And 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 287 

who can withhold his sympathy from him thus bereaved, 
w^iether you see him in his quiet and cheerless home, or in 
his lonely walks with those w^ho are continually reminding 
him of the departed one? There may be other kind hearts 
to yearn over that little flock, but not w^ith the delicate ten- 
derness of a mother. There may be others to throw^ around 
the little ones a cherishing care ; but it is not the sweet influ- 
ence of a mother, w^ooing into beautiful development and 
growth, the budding affections and springing thoughts of 
youthful souls, until they stand clothed wnth excellence. 
The place and office of a good mother can never be properly 
supplied to those children. But although he who is thus 
bereaved, is conscious that a calamity disastrous to his hap- 
piness has befallen him ; yet should he sustain his mind by 
those consolatory considerations which the sepulchre sug- 
gests. Are you not more competent, and better able to walk 
the path of life alone, than that feeble and delicate object of 
your affections ? Have you not a stronger arm, and a stouter 
heart, and more ample resources in your nature, to call to 
the service of defending and directing those innocent ones 
who claim your protection and support? And consider, also, 
how that gentle being w^as bowed down with unmitigated 
affliction for years. How^ her bodily infirmities made her 
life a w^eariness, and put gall and w^ormwood into the cup of 
her enjoyment ; and her constitution so shattered, that every 
pulsation became a throb of pain. And must not her repose 
in the tomb be sweet? There she slumbers on, and her 
peace is not broken by a single disturbing influence. As 



238 TKE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

you Avatched with her through that long and painful scene of 
suffering, from which you knew she could not recover and 
that separation was inevitable, it was a relief to your sympa- 
thising heart, when you saw her sinking sweetly on the 
bosom of Jesus, and the light of her countenance blending 
wuth the glory of another world ; so that, in death she was 
beautiful, and her image peaceful as an angel in repose ; and 
you surrendered back to heaven the jew^l it had lent. And 
now the quiet sepulchre speaks to you of the peaceful repose 
of her spirit ; and those blooming flow^ers w^hich are nourished 
by her dust, image to your mind that beautiful immortality 
which has become her inheritance forever. 

Or, it may be that yours is the desolation of the widow, 
and then you exclaimed, as you looked upon the cold and 
lifeless form to which you had clung with so much confidence, 
" How is the strong staff' and beautiful rod broken !" And 
that staff" may have crumbled from beneath you at a time 
when it seemed to you and to others that you had most need 
of its support. Difficult as it is to administer consolation to 
those who almost refuse to be comforted, even the sepulchre 
of a husband may utter messages which will kindle hope in 
that desolate heart, and breathe a reviving cordial over that 
drooping spirit. Perhaps, in the inscrutable w^ays of a 
gracious Providence, that silent grave may have brought 
quietness and peace to your soul. While living he may have 
been the tower of your strength, and the rock of your hopes, and, 
from a heart brimming with affection, shed around you such 
a flood of happiness, that you sought no higher blessing, nor 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 239 

felt the need of a more impregnable refuge. But in that day, 
when the storm of affliction shook your tower until it fell into 
a heap of ruins, your spirit, like an affrighted bird driven from 
its nest, flew about until it rested on the Rock of ages ; and 
as an inhabitant of the clefts of that Rock, it now sings in 
cadences all the sweeter, because mellow^ed by bereavement. 

" Rock of ages, shelter me ! 
Let me hide myself in thee ; 
Let the water and the blood 
From thy wounded side that flowed, 
Be of sin the double cure ; 
Cleanse me from its guilt and power." 

And if you have sought and found rest in the embraces of 
a Saviour's love, then have the chastisements of the Lord, 
notwithstanding their painfulness, been the vehicle of price- 
less good to-you, forasmuch as that Providence which opened 
3. grave for your beloved also unlocked the door of your 
soul's prison, and ushered you into the liberty of God's chil- 
dren. And although your head shall no more repose on the 
throbbing bosom of that husband, nor his arms encircle your 
slender form, yet do you pillow your head upon the bosom 
of Jesus, and underneath you are the arms that sustain the 
universe. Thus while He, whose judgments are past finding 
out, has taken thy partner to rest, He has given himself to 
thee, " for He is the father of the fatherless, and the husband 
of the widow." And while you praise Him for bestowing 
a greater treasure than He has taken, you would not recall 
him w^hom you cherished so tenderly from his hallowed 
repose, to pass again through the throes of death. 



240 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

! how many precious little innocent ones now enjoy the 
holy repose of the sepulchre. To them it has indeed become 
a covert from the storms which blow along the pathway of 
life. But young as many of these were when death overtook 
them, and short as their race seemed, some of them suffered 
more than others who lived to an advanced age. It will not 
be deemed strange if I give a brief history of one, and thus 
present a record of a great multitude. For are they not all 
innocent and lovely ? and is not the affection with which they 
are cherished everywhere the same ? It was on the 22d of 
February, 1845, in a pleasant village on the banks of the 
Potomac, that we received our first-born from the Lord. An 
angel-boy; not only lovely in the eyes of his parents, 
but all who knew him, seemed to be irresistibly drawn 
to him. The natural comeliness of his faultless person was 
heightened by unusual intelligence and loveliness of spirit 
He grew rapidly in stature and in wisdom ; and as his body 
expanded and his snowy, ample brow hung about with 
golden ringlets, he formed an image of rare beauty. He 
was tenderly cherished, and perhaps too much engrossed the 
affections of his fond parents. But he was a holy child ; and 
of his own accord, before he could articulate words, com- 
menced, and ever after statedly observed, secret devotion. In 
his third year he would cause his little playmates to unite 
with him in social worship. And as he always exhibited a 
profound reverence for God and holy things, and delighted 
in the w^orship of the sanctuary, we had formed our hopes 
concerning him. We had pictured a bright future, when we 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 241 

should see him walking in the way to heaven, and luring 
others on to glory. For such were our assurances of his 
piety, gathered from his daily conversations, that we knew 
God had already established his goings. On one occa- 
sion, while his mother read the history of two good boys to 
hhn, he exhibited a rare tenderness of conscience for one so 
young; for, after attentively listening to the end, he seemed 
deeply affected, and threw his arms about her neck, while 
his eyes filled with tears, saying, " ma, I am bad because 
I am yet so little." Such language from one who had never 
manifested any disposition to be disobedient or unkind, and in 
whose life we never had detected any fruits of depravity, 
showed very clearly that he had been taught of the Holy 
Spirit. But a mysterious Providence now sent us a sore 
trial for our faith and his. He w^as visited w^ith a painful and 
distressing malady. Ah ! how painfully vivid are those long 
nights and days of suffering before our minds! Thrice did 
he behold Nature rising from death renewed in vernal beauty, 
before the disease yielded and gradually withdrew^ from 
his body ; so that his youth w^as renewed like the eagle's, and 
w^e rejoiced as those who receive one from the dead. But 
how uncertain are our hopes, and how vain our expectations ! 
A month, a day, an hour may quench them all ! Our beauti- 
ful boy, one morning as he rose from his slumbers, ran to me 
and said, '' pa, I had such a pretty dream last night !" On 
being asked what it was, he replied, " I thought God came 
down into ray room and took me out of my bed, and 
21 



242 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

carried me up above the moon and the stars, and I saw so 
many beautiful things, and I saw persons with wings, and 
they flew, and I flew about too : and all was so bright and 
pretty !" That which was thus pictured upon his mind in a 
dream, perhaps occasioned by his meditations, he was per- 
mitted to reahze in two weeks from that time. The cholera 
broke out in our midst, and among its victims was our dear 
child. ! how his sufferings did smite our hearts, and 
pierce like a sword our very souls! It seemed as though our 
ov^^n nature was dying, and every death-throe in our beloved 
filled us with fresh anguish. God! what bitterness there 
is in the memory of that hour! But he longed for heaven, 
and we yielded up our heart's treasure, our all, our only boy, 
and said, " Go, our sweet boy, go ! we will no longer hold 
thee back, since it is painful to thee ! May the deliverer come ! 
Thy parents will no longer contend with him to retain thee ! 
Go! then, our first born, our summer child; and if there 
never more may come a summer to these hearts, still go, that 
thou mayest have rest. Blessed be thou ! and blessed be He 
also who gave thee to us, and who now taketh thee from us 
to a better home- Some time, beloved son, we will come to 
thee. Come, thou good deliverer — come, thou beloved 
death, and give rest to his heart ; but easily, easily death." 
And the little chest had heaved for the last time, a smile stole 
upon his countenance and told us that he was with 
God. But he sleeps far away from us, and we can only 
express our feelings in the sweet strains of another bereaved 
one: 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 243 

" Thoughts of that little lonely grave, 
Beneath the green-tree shade, 
Come over me with anguish new, 
As when it first was made ; 
And " earth to earth," and " dust to dust," 
Their fearful sound conveyed. 
For there within, my first-born son 
Was laid in slumber fair. 
So life-like, that I did mistrust 
That death was imaged there ; 
They heaped the dark mould o'er his head, 
And said a holy prayer. 
And there he sleeps, so wonder not 
That thus my tears will flow ; 
That little grave — that lonely grave, — 
To leave unguarded so ; 
While far away from those sad scenes 
I must forever go." 

We can therefore join in the grief of the many bereaved 
ones, whose homes have been desolated by death, and whose 
hearts are robed in sackcloth. We can mingle our sorrows 
as w^e recall with tears the sufferings of those dear innocent 
ones. Ah, ye precious lambs, how^ can we forget that hour 
w^hen you looked wildly to us for help ; w^hen you clasped 
your little arms about our neck, and your little hearts w^ere 
fluttering out their last pulsations upon our anguished 
bosoms. ! the scenes of that last hour, and that last look, 
are forever present to our minds. But ye have overcome ; 
ye have fallen asleep in Jesus ; and that heavenly radiance 
that beamed upon your countenance, assured us that angels 
pillow^ed your souls to rest ; and those bright and beautiful 
things which opened to your vision, but which our eyes 
could not see; and those celestial melodies which charmed 



244 THE REPOSE OE THE HOLY DEAD. 

your infant spirits away, but which vibrated not on mortal 
ears; all were imaged on your features. Ye glided peace- 
fully away, as the rivulet loses itself in the stream ; as dew-- 
drops ye sparkled a little w^hile, until drawn up by the light 
and warmth of eternal love to mingle with the fellowship and 
glory of heaven. 

*' Happy spirits, ye are fled, 

Where no grief can entrance find ; 
Lull'd to rest the aching head ; 

Sooth'd the anguish of- the mind. 
Every tear is wiped away, 

Sighs no more shall heave the breast; 
Night is lost in endless day, 

Sorrow in eternal rest." 

But we wall cherish your memories ; w^e will religiously 
preserve those dear images which the blessed sunlight has 
pencilled on the steel, but w^e will not wish you back. No ! 
not even to still these aching bosoms, nor to fill that void 
which your removal has occasioned, and which all the world 
cannot replenish. Blessed, happy ones! to have gone so 
early, and so innocently, from earth to heaven'. 

! is it not a great consolation to know that they rest in 
peace .'^ Had we gone first, we could not have had the same 
firm assurance that they w^ould follow us to heaven. The 
young are exposed to many dangers, both from the corrup- 
tions of their own hearts, and from the temptations of the 
world. Sin is a serpent which first charms, and then wands 
its immense folds around its unsuspecting victims, until it 
chains them firmly to vice. New sources of corruption are 
multiplying continually, so that the parent is really happy, 



THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 245 

whose family has gone before him to the '' rest that reraaineth 
for the people of God." Well may such exclaim with the 
patriarch, '^ the Lord gave, the Lord has taken away, blessed 
be the name of the Lord." For while our sainted ones have 
escaped all dangers, they are also exempt from those sorrows 
which are incident to the life of pilgrims on earth. The 
ills \vhich cling to our humanity, and the distresses which 
are felt on our progress to eternity ; the languor of disease, 
and the infirmities of age, shall never afflict them with their 
hard pressures. Only a few storms beat around them in the 
morning of life, and now their eternal existence is unclouded 
and glorious. How much more blessed are they, than God's 
most favored children on earth ! Here we toil ; yonder they 
rest. Here we often weep ; there they rejoice ; and while we 
are tossed by temptations, and anguished by fears, eternal 
sunshine plays around their heads, and ravishing melodies 
flow from their lips. The distant echoes of that music now 
vibrate upon my ear, and my heart throbs with emotions of 
delight under the conscious persuasion that I have furnished 
one to that company of harpers around the eternal throne — 
that one, who was '' bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh," 
stands in the presence of God, and utters the hallelujahs of 
heaven. And ! how it wall relieve the last hour of its 
bitterness, and kindle raptures in the heart laboring in the 
throes of death, to know that there are precious ones just 
beyond Jordan, all bright and glorious, ready to fly into our 
embraces, and w^elcome us to the joys of a blissful immor- 
tality ! Father of all mercies, forgive these yearnings after 
21 * 



246 THE REPOSE OF THE HOLY DEAD. 

our beloved, if they partake of aught that is sinful. Give us 
a quiet and submissive spirit in every trial. Let the light of 
thy countenance fall upon every dark scene which thy wis- 
dom ordains for us, and help us always to feel that thou art 
good, for — 

** By our path of trial, thou plantest still 
Thy lilies of consolation ; 
But the loveliest of all, to do thy will, 
Be it done in resignation." 



CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE VALUE AND 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 



' It muSst be so ; Plato, thou reasonest well, 
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
This longing after immortality ? 
Or whence this secret dread and inward horror 
Of falling into naught ? Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ; 
'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, 
And intimates eternity to man." 



When gazing upon the ruins of a palace, the first emotions 
of surprise and sadness will be quickly succeeded by reflec- 
tions connected with the inhabitants that either escaped from 
the fallen pile, or perished in the ruins. And thus, also, 
when standing by the sepulchre of a departed one, we may 
utter our lamentations as we remember the former condition 
of that body which now moulders under the power of corrup- 
tion, while our thoughts are associated with the soul that 
animated it. That body was once instinct with life ; it 
breathed, and moved, and spoke, and performed all those 
noble functions for which the Creator had designed it. That 
pulseless heart once swelled with lofty emotions ; it was the 

(247) 



248 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

home of generous friendships and the empire of holy love. 
Those feet which, with swift and unfaltering step, trod the 
path of duty, are motionless. That arm, once nerved with 
strength and lifted to the execution of exalted purposes, now 
lies helpless across the manly chest w^hich had heaved in 
unison with the grand designs of Jehovah. And that eye, 
w^hich w^as w^ont to flame with intellectual fire, is dim ; and 
that brow, on w^hich glowed eloquent thought, is stricken 
W'ith the pallor of death ; and the entire appearance of that 
house of clay forcibly illustrates the declaration of the Psalm- 
ist, '^ Thou changest his countenance, and sendest him 
away." But while contemplating the ruins of the earthly 
mansion, do we not instinctively ask, where is the spirit, the 
former inhabitant of this ruined temple? There is, perhaps, 
ho subject w^hich has more universally and intensely occupied 
the attention of mankind in the different periods of the 
world's history, than the nature and destiny of the soul. It 
has always awakened deep and earnest thoughts among the 
reflecting, and commanded the profound meditations of 
ancient philosophers. Among these w^e number as the most 
prominent, Socrates and Plato, who approximated the solution 
of the problem of our being, although they did not succeed 
in their eflTorts to unravel the mystery in which it was 
involved. All men had certain internal intimations and 
vague apprehensions of the soul's future existence ; but these 
pushed their inquiries farther, and obtained more elevated 
ideas of its nature and destiny. 

Job asked the question, "If a man die, shall he live 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 249 

again ?" If not, then religion is a delusion, the Bible a fable, 
and eternity a dream. Then may we, then ought we, to 
snatch from the passing moments of the present every thing 
which can be made tributary to our enjoyment. But if we 
shall exist hereafter, then life becomes a solemn reality ; and 
religion, and the Bible, and eternity, the most momentous 
subjects that can engage the attention of rational beings. 
And then, also, will we regard as thrillingly important the 
questions which so frequently propound themselves to the 
mind : What am I ? Whence have I come, and whither am 
I going ? ^ W^hat is the beginning, the nature, and design of 
my existence ? Does it stop in the tomb, or stretch into the 
far-beyond of interminable ages ? If I regard myself as 
nothing more than a bit of organized dust, which is to be 
scattered to the w^inds by the breath of the destroyer, I w^ill 
certainly not order my walk and conversation with any 
reference to the future. But if I recognize in myself an 
immortal being, I will find my thoughts at once linked and 
associated with eternal realities ; so that very important results 
are to flow^ from the manner in w^hich I answer these 
questions. If a man thinks at all, his reflections must some- 
times be connected with his own mysterious being. The 
history of other objects, and the changes through which they 
pass to work out their appropriate results, wdll necessarily 
suggest inquiries as to his own future. He beholds death at 
twork everywhere in Nature. The forest and the field are 
stripped of their excellent glory ; and the pall of decay, and 
the blight of desolation, at certain periods mantle the material 



250 THE SEPULCHRE REIMINDS US OF THE 

creation around him. But he also beholds those things 

which had descended into the grave of winter reproduced 

under new and even more beautiful forms. " There is 

hope of a tree," saith Job, "if it be cut down, that it will 

sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not 

cease." And is it possible that man should die and not live 

again ? Shall the soul participate in the decay of the body ? 

Does it cease to exist and to think ? and is it struck with 

eternal sleep, and laid in the darksome grave to wake no 

more forever ? 

*' Can it be 
Matter immortal? And shall spirit die? 
Above the noble shall less noble rise ! 
Shall man alone, for whom all else revives, 
No resurrection know ? Shall man alone, 
Imperial man ! be sown in barren ground. 
Less privileged than grain on which he feeds ? 

The sentiments embodied in this language come with 
peculiar urgency to us at the sepulchres of our departed, and 
demand an explicit answer before we can surrender them* 
with a cheerful heart. To the question, then, which the 
patriarch propounds, and which is reiterated by the poet, " If 
a man die shall he live again?" we unhesitatingly and un- 
qualifiedly respond in the affirmative. 

The soul carries within its own nature the most conclusive 
proofs of its immortality. What is the soul? It is not 
material. It cannot be seen, nor handled j neither is it 
subject to those laws which govern material things. And on 
this very ground has the atheist triumphantly asked, how can 
I believe in the existence of something which is intangible 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 251 

to my senses? Can that exist whose form eludes my vision 
and my touch ? But we might ask such whether they ever 
saw^ the pain which has WTung from them cries of anguish ? 
or whether they can discern and scan the dimensions of those 
powers w^hose unseen energies robe our earth with innumer- 
able blessings ? Or can they go behind the visible effects of 
that veiled and mysterious energy which fills the universe 
with life, and motion, and beauty, and describe its character- 
istics? And surely none w^ill presume to deny the existence 
of this hidden force which resides in the organism of nature ; 
for it is manifested on a mas^nificent scale throuo:h all her 
domain,while it is proclaimed by the revolutions of the heavenly 
bodies, by the royal sound of thunder, and in the voice of 
the earthquake. And are there not in like manner the most 
imposing monuments to attest the existence of the soul? 
Whence are those systems of human law in which we find 
concentrated the rays of wisdom w^hich lay scattered 
through the different ages of the world ? There could not be 
a more sublime monument to human genius than our own 
code of civil jurisprudence. And to what parentage do w^e 
ascribe the philosophy, the science, the learning, and the 
useful inventions w'hich have contributed so largely to the 
advancement and happiness of the race ? Are not all these 
the offspring of the same parent — the intellect, effects pro- 
duced by the spiritual and immaterial part of man ? Men 
universally acknowledge a distinction between the products 
of matter and those which emanate from that intelligent, 
thinking being which resides in these houses of clay. It is, 



252 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

moreover, the soul which elevates man above the irrational 
animal creation. As to his body, he is conscious of all the 
wants, passions, and appetites of an animal; but " there is a 
spirit in man, and the breath of the Almighty hath given him 
understanding." And it is this spirit which links him in 
fellowship with God arid his angels. It is this which clothes 
him with honor, and gives him a position of pre-eminence in 
relation to other creatures, and makes him lord of the earth. 
The body is dust, and is irresistibly drawn to its origin ; but 
the soul is conscious of a higher destiny, and aspires to a 
glorious immortality. It is to his spiritual nature that man 
is indebted for his conceptions of God ; for that which he 
sees and enjoys ; for his ability to invent and project ; to con- 
trol his individual actions, or to preside over the affairs of an 
empire. For it is the soUl which thinks, and reasons, and 
wills, and acts. Our actions are not the results of a peculiar 
organization, as infidelity, under the name of science, has 
sometimes attempted to establish — an assumption w^hich is as 
foolish as it is wicked, and which must always have a low 
origin, and a still lower tendency. Such teachings are 
not the legitimate offspring of science, but a bastard brood 
w^hich have been falsely baptized scientific ; forasmuch as a 
system never rises to the dignity of a science unless it is 
based upon immutable deductions and demonstrations, drawn 
from established and incontrovertible facts ; none of which 
can be claimed for the pratings of infidelity, nor for any of 
those perversions of true science which have been pressed 
into the service of a bad cause. Fortunately for sound 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 253 

morality, for religion, and the cause of truth, the abandoned 
lives of these votaries of evil furnish such a commentary on 
their system as will forever prevent its adoption by those 
who are not prepared to plunge themselves and society into 
hopeless ruin. For what other result could ensue if the 
cheerless fatalism of ancient times were brought back upon 
society, to justify the corruptions and vices of the depraved. 
If mankind could be made to believe that man's moral actions 
are the results of his physical and intellectual structure, 
then there w^ould be no escape from the conclusion that all 
the penalties which government inflicts upon the violators 
of law, are gross outrages committed upon those criminals ; 
for where is the right to punish, when there is no power to 
refrain from the commission of crime ? The brute and the 
maniac are not subjects of government ; neither do men 
denounce the fire and steam, or any other destructive 
element w^hich may have occasioned the loss of life. 

If a m-an's actions are as the leaves and fruit of a tree, the 
legitimate growth of his nature, and not the offspring of his 
willj he can no longer be regarded as a responsible agent, 
and therefore cannot be justly punished for any transgression 
which flows from a constitutional necessity. The admission 
of this doctrine would constrain us to regard the entire 
social structure as wrong, and totally subversive of every 
principle of right, and the acts of the vicious as misfortunes 
and not crimes. And this would not only conflict with all 
the interests of society, and strike at the very existence and 
peace of social life, but is in direct opposition to the Divine 
22 



254 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

government. For with what justice could God punish the 
incorrigible sinner, if he is the child of immutable fate, and 
acts only in conformity with the laws of his being? But 
such are not the teachings of reason, of conscience, or of 
the Bible. All these assure us that our actions are the 
results of a free, intelligent, and therefore accountable, soul 
within us. It is not a material organization, but a depraved 
heart and a perverted will, which darken the life of man 
with crime. Such are the utterances of heaven respecting 
the soul ; and with these the consciousness of man fully co- 
incides ; and he is, therefore, placed in a sphere allied to that 
of angel§. 

Thought and reflection are also properties peculiar to the 
mind. Matter can never be made to think. It may undergo 
refining processes, be turned into a gaseous or fluid state, but 
through whatever crucible it may pass, and whatever combi- 
nations it may be made to assume, it never rises to the 
dignity of intelligence. Man is the author of wonderful 
discoveries, and has made almost all things tributary to his 
w^ill, and subject to his powder; but among all the nicely 
contrived machinery of which he is the architect, there is 
nothing which is able to endow matter with the faculty of 
thought. This is a property of the soul, and incontestably 
demonstrates that it is essentially distinct in its nature from 
material substances, and therefore, not subject to those laws 
which control the physical man. It cannot be impaired or 
destroyed like the body. You may chain the human form, 
load its limbs with fetters of iron, and so oppress and 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 255 

waste it by confinement, as to destroy its life by starvation, 
or torture, but you can forge no fetters with which to manacle 
the soul. It scorns all the implements of tyranny, and bids 
defiance to the gloomy cell and the walled prison. From 
the deepest and darkest dungeon into which the body may 
be cast, the soul will soon soar away in its thoughts at plea- 
sure to whatever fields of knowledge and enjoyment it may 
delight to explore. Behold Paul, the ambassador of Christ, 
while incarcerated at Rome ; though cut oflf from social 
intercourse with friends, yet was he in sympathy with the 
Church and in communion with God. His heart never 
pulsated with freer emotions and loftier purposes, than while 
from his narrow cell there issued those inspired intellectual crea- 
tions, which are still going round the globe, publishing the 
blessings and mysteries of redemption to a lost world. His 
oppressors had loaded his hands with chains, but they could 
not bind the faculties of his immortal spirit. His aspirations 
darted like viewless angels to the bosom of God, and to the 
throne of the Mediator, when he penned that triumphant 
assurance — "I know in whom I have believed, and am 
persuaded that He is able to keep that, which I have com- 
mitted to Him, against that day." And the like experience 
had all " that cloud of witnesses, of whom the world was not 
w^orthy." And it was in view of the spiritual nature of the 
soul, which placed it beyond the reach of human violence, 
that the Saviour exhorted his disciples — 'Tear not them 
which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul ; but 
rather fear him that is able to destroy both soul and body in 



256 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

hell." The body soon reaches its maturityj then enters upon 
its decline, and presently sinks into a heap of ruins ; but it is 
not so with the spirit. The dying testimonies of millions 
have furnished the most conclusive proof, that the soul re- 
mains vigorous and unimpaired amid the decays of the body.' 
If any of its faculties seem to fail, or perform their office 
feebly, we shall find the cause of that feebleness in the 
weakness of those organs through which they act, and not in 
any diminished strength of the soul. The great intellects 
w^hich have shone conspicuously in the civil and religious 
world, and commanded the homage of mankind, never 
uttered greater thoughts than when standing on that crumb- 
ling precipice, where the interests of time and eternity blend. 
Luther and Knox, Washington and Napoleon, Clay and 
Webster, never displayed greater intellectual force than near 
the close of their earthly pilgrimage. And is it not equally 
true of all, the action of whose minds is not crippled by 
diseased organs, that while the harbingers of death were 
busy in taking down their tenement of clay, they uttered 
thoughts wdde and deep as eternity. And should not 
the testimony of the soul in regard to its undying 
nature be received, as it is uttered on the very thres- 
hold of an endless futurity, and when in the very act of 
gathering up its energies for the immortal flight ? Ah ! he 
who has stood by the couch of the dying righteous, or the 
wicked, and witnessed the kindlings of unutterable raptures 
as the glories of heaven unfolded to the vision of the depart- 
ing ; or seen the sullen gloom of despair settling upon the 



VALUE AND IMJMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 257 

countenance as a dark and fearful destiny came thronging 
upon his inner consciousness, can have no skepticism as to 
the soul's immortality. Said one who was passing to a 
better home — "My heart is so full of happiness, that it 
seems to me that I could give out to all the world, and it 
would still be overflowing." 

It has been my painful duty on more than one occasion 
to witness .awful premonitions of despair in the dying whom 
I was called to attend. The case of a young man to whom 
I was warmly attached, was of this melancholy character. 
He was sent in early life to try his fortune in one of our large 
cities. He obtained a situation in an extensive mercantile 
estabhshment, and by his aptness and intelligence, and the 
interest which he exhibited in the business of his employers, 
soon won their esteem and confidence. After a short appren- 
ticeship he was placed at the head of the establishment. He 
displayed unusual business tact, and such were his qualifi- 
cations for his responsible post, that he managed with great 
success nearly all the business affairs of the firm. His em- 
ployers had unbounded confidence in his judgment and 
honesty, and therefore committed to his trust the care of the 
house during their absence, or while giving their attention to 
other duties. But that young man, like too many others, 
found no home in the families of those merchants, and no 
watchful counselors in those whom he served. And ! how 
many youths are there in our large cities, over whom em- 
ployers exercise no parental care, and no moral influence for 
good ! They scarcely know where they lodge, and perhaps 

22* 



258 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

never inquire what associations they form ; and yet who can 
doubt that those who are served by these young men, have 
resting upon them a tremendous responsibility, and that 
they are solemnly bound to bring them under such religious 
influences as will save them from the temptations to which 
they are exposed ? Removed from the influences of home, 
from the light of a mother's smiles, and where the gentle 
power of the love of brothers and sisters is not felt; and 
add to this the small compensation for their labor, and their 
uncomfortable lodgings, and we need not marvel that so 
many who go to our large cities uncorrupted soon become 
familiar with vice in all its forms, and fall victims to their 
passions. 

Such was the condition of my unhappy friend. Having 
no amusement at his lodgings, he sought the company of the 
multitude. It was at the theatre that his passions were 
kindled into burning, and it w^as there that he formed 
associations which led him into dishonesty and crime. For 
a number of years he succeeded in concealing the appropria- 
tion made of his employers' funds to his own use, until, 
emboldened, he ventured upon outlays which excited suspi- 
cion and induced inquiry, and his guilt was detected. Find- 
ing that a prosecution might follow, he fled ; but the life which 
he had led had already shattered his constitution, and poisoned 
the fountain of health. Soon after he was more seriously 
smitten with disease, and he returned home to die. For a 
number of weeks did I visit him ; and often, when seated by 
his bedside, I discovered the workings of intense anguish 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 259 

in his countenance. But as I was ignorant of his guilt, and 
accustomed to regard him as one possessed not only of a 
brilliant mind, but a}so of a virtuous character, I ascribed 
those indications of distress to bodily anguish. After 
repeated efforts to learn his views on the subject of religion 
and his preparation for eternity, in which I failed, I had 
painful misgivings as to the correctness of the opinion which 
I had formed of his character. A few weeks had passed 
away, and my anxiety for his soul increased, as I could dis- 
cover no change for the better in his_ body or mind. One 
day a messenger came in great haste, and, weeping, begged 
my immediate attention to poor L. I hastened to the 
presence of the dying man ; and the first w^ords that fell 
upon my ear as I entered the room were, " 0, my friend, I 
am lost! I am lost!" I drew near and took hold of his 
hand, and began to speak to him of the mercy and compas- 
sion of God. I told him of the tenderness of Jesus, and 
of the many promises and invitations he had left to the 
penitent guilty. I assured him that He was a great and 
compassionate Redeemer ; — that He was not only willing, 
"but mighty to save to the uttermost, all that come unto 
God through him." But to all that I could urge he replied, 
^' it is too late! too late!" I brought before his mind the 
thief upon the cross, upon whom Christ had mercy, and 
entreated him to call upon the Saviour for pardon, but he 
would not pray. I besought him then, to repeat after me 
such petitions as I might offer, and he still refused ; and 
finally I urged him by the relation I sustained to him, and 



260 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

the solemn realities of that eternity into \vhich he was about 
to enter, to pronounce the publican's prayer, " God be merciful 
to me, a sinner ;" and told him how even one earnest believ- 
ing prayer might open the gate of heaven to that soul which 
throws itself upon the bleeding sacrifice of Calvary ; but he 
w^ould not. With an oppressed heart I bowed myself in 
supplication before the Lord, for my poor friend, and having 
commended him to the favor and clemency of a merciful 
Sovereign, I rose and took my departure ; but before I 
reached my carriage, a messenger recalled me. As soon as 
I entered his chamber, he ordered all his attendants and 
friends to retire and leave us alone. After they had all with- 
drawn, he fixed his eyes upon me with great earnestness, and 
thus addressed me: ''Mr. A., you will remember that you 
are in the chamber of death, and what you are about to hear, 
is from the lips of a dying man, w^ho has no motive to 
deceive. I cannot go to eternity w^ith this burden on my 
soul, and therefore, I sent for you to make certain disclosures 
of my life." He then gave a statement of his past history, 
which I will not repeat. At the conclusion of this confession, 
he drew me nearer o his pillow, and then in tones which 
seemed the concentration of despair, he added — '' my 
friend, I am damned." I again endeavored as well as I 
could (for I was overcome with his distress), to kindle hope 
in that desolate heart. I suggested to him that these feelings 
might perhaps be nothing more than sudden terror, induced 
by his situation, or his mind might be wandering ; but to all 
I could say he answered emphatically and firmly in the 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 261 

negative. " Sir," said he, " ray mind was never clearer than 
it is at this moment ; I am capable of appreciating the kind- 
ness of your instructions, but I know my situation, hell has 
commenced its torments;" and placing his hand upon his 
bosom, he said, w^ith unutterable anguish — '' it is here^ hell 
is already /iere." He then turned to me, and taking my 
hand, he thanked me for my attention to him, and said, " Go 
now, my faithful friend, I know" this is painful to you," and 
he pressed his last farewell. A few hours after that interview 
he passed into eternity, and was in the hands of a merciful 
God. 

Painfully vivid is that scene imprinted upon my mind ; and 
often have I re-examined every particular connected with the 

last hours of my kind but unhappy friend L , to see if I 

could not gather even a feeble hope, that he might have been 
under the influence of delirium induced by bodily pain ; but 
there was the clear eye, flashing w^ith all the steady intelli- 
gence that emanates from a mind acknowledging the 
dominion of reason, and just as he had looked a thousand 
times upon me. I have but one observation to make in 
connection w^ith this melancholy, but unembellished record 
of the last hours of an amiable and gifted young man, and it 
is this. If the testimony of the dying in relation to worldly 
business is received in the highest courts of human judicature, 
as the most reliable evidence which can be produced in a 
cause that is tried, are we not w^arranted to regard such testi- 
mony when it relates to the nature and destiny of the 
soul as stamped with the most undoubted veracity ? I 



262 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

confess that to my mind those premonitions of the realities 
of a coming eternity, constitute an incontrovertible proof of 
the souPs immortality. 

But another argument for the endless existence of man's 
spiritual being, may be drawn from the nature of material 
substances at which I have already hinted. It is universally 
conceded by philosophers that matter is indestructible. You 
may change its form and diminish its bulk, but you cannot 
destroy it. The oak of centuries may be hew^n down and 
reduced to ashes, but this is only changing its form, and not 
annihilating its material properties. The water which flowed 
in its pores wull be exhaled into the air ; the clouds will carry 
it on swift w^ng to the far-off mountain, where they shed it 
down to feed the fountain which replenishes the stream that 
carries its tribute of waters to the ocean. The heat which 
it contained will pass into that mass of caloric which w^arms 
the earth and promotes the growth of plants and trees. And 
thus all the solids and fluids of that oak are mingling again 
with those kindred elements which produce another of its 
kind. And if such be the privilege and mission of matter, 
is the presumption reasonable that the spirit in man, the 
immediate offspring of Deity, should sink into a cheerless 
nonenity after its connection with the body is dissolved ? 

** Look nature through : 'tis revolution all; 
All change ; no death. Day follows night, and night 
The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
Earth takes the example. See the summer gay, 
With her green chaplet and ambrosial flowers, 
Droops into pallid autumn : winter grey 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 263 

Horrid witli frost, and turbulent "vvith storm, 

Blows Autumn and his golden fruits away, 

Then melts into the spring ; soft spring, with breath 

Favonian, from warm chambers of the south. 

Recalls the first. All, to reflourish, fades ; 

As in a wheel, all sinks to reascend, 

Emblems of man, who passes, not expires." 

'' This image is as charming as it is true of our life and 
destiny. As all things in nature die only to live again, and 
as the stars of heaven retire from our view to shine on other 
lands, so man dieth that he may rise to a nobler existence ; 
and the light of his soul is withdrawn from observers on 
earth that it may shine among the blessed in God's presence 
forever. And is it not consoling to bereaved ones to know 
that their departed live ? 0, yes, that beautiful immortality 
which is not obscured by a cloud nor swept by a single storm 
can rebuild our WTecked happiness ; for even its hope, that 
glows within our souls, brings to the weary and faint refresh- 
ing draughts from the river that flow^s from the midst of the 
throne of God and the Lamb. For w^e know that our sainted 
are gone, and that w^e are following after to that cloudless 
home where decay and blight never fall upon the inhabitants, 
but where all flourish in immortal bloom ; so that the brief 
existence here, and all the calamities which darken it, shrink 
into insignificance w^hen placed by the side of that glowing 
immortality for which all the holy are destined. 

The immortality of the soul may also be inferred from its 
constitutional frame-w^ork. There is nothing in all material 
and animated nature that resembles it in its structure. What 
a noble being it is ! How unlike all other objects ! Behold 



264 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

its reasoning faculties — the judgment, tlie will, the imagina- 
tion, the memory, and conscience. All these powers per- 
form distinct functions, yet act in concert, and produce 
amazing results. Reason solves the most difficult problems ; 
and its deductions are adopted or rejected, according to the 
dictates of conscience. The memory is its great store-house 
where its treasures accumulate, and are hoarded for 
eternity. The imagination wings its flight through immen- 
sity, and gathers within its circling sweep the universe. The 
thoughts and affections soar into the sanctities of heaven, and 
wnth bright spirits, cluster around the throne of eternal love. 
It is fitted for reflection ; and its meditations may compass 
earth and heaven, and range from the worm to the archangel, 
and from the flowers of the field to those which are '' the 
poetry of the skies." Its contemplations may stretch from 
the newly-created Eden, flushed in its sinless glory, to the 
smouldering wreck from which the '^ new earth" shall rise 
resplendent with righteousness. It is qualified to hold 
communion wdth other intelligences distinguished or humble 
in the distant past or the far-off* future, with men, with angels, 
and with God. Surely such a w^onderful structure was not 
reared by Almighty power to be shattered by the stroke of 
death into a heap of ruins, before it had time to fill out its 
immense proportions. Is it possible that the soul's destiny 
lies within the limits of this earthly existence ? Would such 
a supposition be in harmony with reason, and consonant 
with that plan of Divine procedure which we witness in His 
other creations? It is incredible, because in conflict with 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 265 

those great and wise principles which run through all His 
w^orks and government. For, what do we see in the soul? 
A being which has upon it the marks of an incipient great- 
ness and grandeur which must not only burst all mortal 
fetters and earthly limits, but which clearly demand a bound- 
less eternity for their appropriate development and full 
maturity. There are the dawnings of a splendor, and the^ 
magnificence of a glory in its intellectual and moral exercises, 
which infallibly intimate a future and higher sphere of 
activity, in which these will rise to their true dignity, and 
radiate their destined effulgence. All the aspirations and 
impulses of the mind clamor for enlargement. Like a 
fettered prisoner, it is impatient of its bonds, and labors to 
burst those barriers which now circumscribe the compass of 
its action. It spurns all the offerings of earth as utterly un- 
suited to fill its immense capacities, or to furnish it with that 
largeness of bliss for which it yearns. Its desires and affec- 
tions are so insatiable, and seek for such an exalted good, 
that they pass above and beyond all earthly pomp and all 
human greatness, to gather within their compass God and 
eternity. 

We regard, therefore, this peculiarity of the soul as one 
which adds force to our argument, viz. : that, unlike all the 
creatures around it, it never attains to its full maturity on 
earth. When we examine the animal and insect tribes which 
throng this world, we discover that unless their existence is 
violently cut short, they all arrive at the perfection of their 
being. The fowls of the air and the beasts of the field are 
23 



266 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

now what they have always been. The law of instinct which 
guides them to the food suited to their natures, remains 
unchanged. The plumage of the eagle and of the dove, as 
well as their dispositions and habits, are the same now as 
when they left paradise to roam over the earth. The swallow 
builds her nest in the same manner as when she found a 
place for her young near the altar of God. The stork and 
the ant afford now the same instruction to the thoughtless 
and slothful, as when Jeremiah and Solomon cited their 
conduct as a reproof to Israel. The beaver has made no 
improvement in the building of his dam, nor the bee in 
forming the honey-comb, since these creatures first com- 
menced their toil. And the pursuits and instincts of all the 
inferior animated creation, are precisely the same as they 
w^ere six thousand years ago. They arrive in a given time 
ranging from a moment to a few^ years, at a point beyond 
which none of their kind will ever pass. But it is not so 
w^ith man : he knows not what a full-grown soul is. From 
paradise onward to the present period, there has been a 
steady improvement in all that relates to the human species. 
Agriculture, arts, government, commerce and education have 
all risen from a feeble and imperfect infancy, to their present 
advancement, and all of them are daily pushing tow^ards a 
higher degree of perfection. The range of human knowledge 
has been widening from age to age, and man's intellectual 
and moral exertions are enlarging as the race advances in 
civilization and religion. And in this we find conclusive 
proof, that all the elements of our spiritual being are suscep- 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 267 

tible of indefinite improvement, and that upon all the intel- 
lectual and moral faculties of man, there is written the law 
of unlimited progress, which furnishes an impregnable 
argument for the immortality of the soul. For if all things 
else which have come from the hands of the infinitely perfect 
Creator, grow in conformity with those laws which govern 
their existence until they have passed into full maturity ; is it 
presumptuous to claim the same destiny for the soul, the 
noblest of all His works? Can the thought be entertained, 
or the stupendous folly find an advocate, that an all-w^ise 
God w^ould annihilate the spirit that claims kindred with 
Himself, and that too, before it has reached the grand theatre 
of its immortal exertions ? Perish the thought, for it has no 
foundation but in those corruptions of man, w^hich make him 
afraid to live. Every theory which predicates the extinction 
of the soul, is insane, at war with the Divine character, 
and in conflict w^ith all aur conceptions of the fitness of things. 
Our consciousness, together with all the yearnings of our 
being, rise up to demonstrate our immortality. And this 
assurance is not peculiar to men of the present generation, 
but is in harmony with the convictions of mankind in all the 
past ages of the world. There is no nation, whether barba- 
rous or civilized, savage or cultivated, pagan or Christian, 
that has not left memorials of its faith in the soul's immortality. 
And all these considerations favourable to another and a 
better life beyond the grave, are confirmed and established 
by the holy oracles. The scriptures assure us that when God 
had formed man, '' He breathed into him the breath of life^ 



268 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OF THE 

and man became a living soul." The soul is therefore the 
immediate offspring of Deity, a spark from the Infinite Intelli- 
gence, a part of the Everlasting God ; and it might be as 
easily proved that He who formed it will cease to exist, as to 
show^ that the spirit will not survive the wreck of the body. 
" The dust shall return to dust, but the spirit to God w^ho 
gave it." The Prophets, our Lord Jesus, and His Apostles, 
all have clearly and incontrovertibly set forth this doctrine. 
A denial of our immortality would divest the Bible and Pro- 
vidence of their solemn investiture and awful meaning, and 
destroy the ground-work of Christianity, while it would leave 
us no assignable reason for the many and mighty agencies 
now in force to fit man for that nobler existence, which lies 
beyond the grave and w^hich is immutably certain. 

From the nature and destiny of the soul, we may draw 
invaluable consolations for the bereaved. To know that the 
souls of our beloved escape unhurt from the ruins of the 
body, is a reflection full of comfort. To be assured by the 
profoundest deductions of reason, and by the testimony of 
Almighty God, that the departed, if possessed of those 
qualifications of purity which fit them for heaven, live with 
Him forever, is cheering beyond expression. The eagle 
which escapes from its cage, soars not w^ith so much exultation 
into his native skies, as those weary spirits did into the 
presence of Jehovah. But among the many consolatory 
reflections wuth which the bereaved may comfort themselves, 
we may submit the following. 

They should remember that the ransomed are delivered 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 269 

from all those impediments to the acquisition of knowledge, 
which embarrassed their efforts on earth. Every barrier is 
broken down ; every obstruction w^hich hindered the inflows 
of knowledge removed. And as knowledge brings pleasure, 
and especially that which consists in clear perceptions of the 
Divine character, we see how this will contribute to their hap- 
piness. As the soul moves in its contemplations over the 
infinite dimensions of its eternal home, and discovers increased 
beauty and loveliness in all its progress amid the illimitable 
wonders of Jehovah, it will be conscious of a similar enlarge- 
ment of its joy. As its eye darts over the unveiled glories of 
immensity, and its ear drinks in the melodies of heavenly 
rapture, it vj'ill be filled with a corresponding increase of bliss. 
The redeemed are also free from all imperfections. They 
will have no sins to bewail, no errors to lament ; but as they are 
perfectly holy, they are perfectly happy. And as our happiness 
is proportionate to the extent and purity of the range of our 
intellectual and moral faculties, those must be infinitely 
blessed, from whom all things are removed which could in 
any wdse interfere with their exertions. What a happy con- 
dition is theirs ! what an unclouded and unending felicity is 
their portion ! When a beloved child, or a cherished friend 
goes to a distant land, and we receive a communication in 
which he describes the healthfulness of the climate, the beauty 
of the landscape, the richness and excellence of its produc- 
tions, the elevated condition of society, and his improved 
circumstances and still brighter prospects, do we not feel 
contented w^hen we know that he who languished in the 
23* 



270 THE SEPULCHRE REMINDS US OE THE 

home he has left, now enjoys health and prosperity ? Such a 
communication of the happy condition of the sainted has God 
sent us. '' They hunger no more, neither thirst any more, 
neither is there any more pain.'' And shall not these utter- 
ances from heaven in regard to the glorified ones around 
God's throne, fill us with a pious resignation to the Divine 
will, and inspire our hearts with joy and peace in the midst 
of our desolated homes ? ! yes ; we may comfort ourselves, 
for although they have died, they live again, and that forever. 
The former temple is in ruins, but the latter into which they 
have entered is more glorious, because filled w-ith the presence 
and glory of God. And should not the fact that w^e are heirs 
of the same immortality, reconcile us to the afflictions and 
trials which are needed to prepare us for that glorious future ? 
Should not the prospect of entering that unbounded scene of 
glory stretching through the interminable ages of eternity, 
kindle such purposes, and give birth to such a course of 
preparation as under the blessing of the Holy Spirit will fit. us 
to reign w^ith God forever? And as expectants of such 
a destiny, should we not fly from, and loathe every thing 
which could mar the hope of such a brilliant future ? O ! if 
w^e are the '^ adopted children of God and heirs with Jesus 
Christ," then are we more highly blest, than he who passes 
to the most powerful earthly throne, and should therefore 
rejoice in every tribulation which diminishes the distance 
between us and a crown of life. We are immortal, and w^hat 
need we care for the titled distinctions of earth? What is 
the grandeur of this w^orld to him who is so soon to enter 



VALUE AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 271 

upon an immortality full of glory ? God grant, that through 
all our \vanderings, the conviction that we are preparing for 
a blessed or wretched futurity, may exert its restraining and 
purifying influences upon our minds, that while threading our 
weary pilgrimage through this life, we may realize to what a 
noble destiny w^e are born. And may the truth of^hy death- 
less nature, impenitent reader, hang with all its tremendous 
weight and significance about thy heart, until that heart 
becomes contrite and holy, for — 

" Immortality o'ersweeps 

AH pains, aU tears, all time, all fears, and peals 
Like the eternal thunders of the deep 
Into thine ears this truth — Thou liy'st forever." 



CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

THE HOPE OF K E S U R R E C TI N DIVESTS THE SE- 
PULCHRE OF ITS TERRORS, AND BRINGS CONSO- 
LATION TO THE BEREAVED. 



*' Blest are thej 
That earth to earth entrust; for they may know 
And tend the dwelling whence the slumberer's clay 
Shall rise at last ; and bid the young flowers bloom, 
That waft a breath of hope around the tomb, 
And kneel upon the dewy turf and pray." 



Sweetly and soothingly did those words of hope in the 
burial service, ''looking for the general resurrection in the 
last day, and the life of the world to come, through our 
Lord Jesus Christ, who shall raise his followers to the 
participation of his own happiness and glory in heaven," fall 
upon our ears when we stood mournfully by the open graves 
of our departed. They breathed a reviving influence, over 
our anguished hearts ; and on wings of hope did our 
thoughts speed to that morn which shall yet burst upon our 
world, when Jesus Christ shall come, " who shall change our 
vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious 
body;" ''when this corruptible shall put on incorruption, 

(272) 



THE HOPE OF RESUHRECTION, ETC. 273 

and this mortal, immortality;" and we said, "He doeth all 
things well." With this glorious prospect have millions 
cheerfally bid farewell to earthly friends and beloved scenes, 
and fallen asleep in Jesus. In the hope of the resurrection 
have bereaved Christians laid parents, husbands, wives, chil- 
dren, brothers, and sisters, into the silent grave without a 
murmur against Providence. But upon what basis does this 
hope rest ? It should assuredly be broad and deep to sustain 
such precious interests as those w^hich repose upon it. 
And it is a source of gratulation to know that neither conjec- 
ture nor analogy forms its only ground-work, but that it has 
for its foundation the Rock of immutable truth. The resurrec- 
tion of the dead is emphatically a doctrine of revelation. It 
lies beyond the province of reason. It is true that caution 
should be exercised when predicating what could, or could 
not, fall wdthin the circle of human discovery, seeing that one 
age cannot fix the range of intellectual research for another, 
forasmuch as the mind is in a state of progression, and is daily 
making some new and startling discoveries. Yet, notwith- 
standing all the brilliant triumphs of the intellect in mechan- 
ism, in science, and in every branch of learning which should 
check the presumptuous, who might venture to fix limits 
beyond which the light of reason could never travel, it is not 
arrogant to assume that the resurrection of the body is one 
of those mysteries which would have escaped our knowledge 
^had not the light of revelation shone into the tomb. It is 
not improbable that men, in all ages, had their conjectures, 
and may have had some intimations about the future glorifica- 



274 THE HOPE OF RESURRECTION 

tion of our humanity. This appears probable from two 
considerations. First : from the fact that the immortality of the 
soul and the resurrection of the body are intimately blended. 
Man could not conceive of the soul as existing in the spirit- 
world or the invisible state, independently of a material 
organization. We always invest good and evil spirits with 
some bodily form which is present to our perceptions when 
we think of them. And in consequence of our imperfect 
apprehensions of spiritual beings, even God is present in our 
conceptions of Him under a certain form. And, therefore, 
''His fulness" is said ''to dwell in Christ bodily," while 
light is made "the garment of Deity," and the "creation 
His house." Angels are represented in Scripture under 
various forms, but mostly in the human, with appendages of 
wings. If they are sent as ministers of wrath to execute the 
judgments of heaven, they are robed in w^arlike armor, or 
shrouded in the tempest, clothed with lightning, or moving 
in the pestilence. The angel which was commissioned to 
destroy a portion of Israel, as a judgment upon David for 
violating the command of God, which forbade him to 
number the people, appeared in mid-heaven over Jerusalem, 
with a drawn sword. The one that appeared unto Jacob is 
described as a man wrestling with the patriarch. It is not 
necessary for us here to inquire whether they could, or could 
not have accomplished their work, or discharged the functions 
of their mission in a viewless and impalpable state ; but it is 
of some importance for us to know that w^hen they did make 
their appearance they were clothed in a bodily shape. And 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 275 

if the form was even not essential to the execution of the 
Divine purposes, it was certainly necessary to produce the 
intended effect upon the minds of those who were to be 
impressed by their visible appearance. And as we ascribe a 
certain form to angels, so, in like manner, do we to the glori- 
fied in heaven whenever we think of them. This must 
alw^ays be the case, unless we adopt the Pantheistic notion 
of spirit, which maintains that the soul, as soon as it leaves 
the body, loses its identity, and dissolves into the Divine 
essence. But this would be in conflict with our individual 
consciousness ; for, whenever our minds wander to the distant 
home of the sainted, and we see them in their adorations 
and other delightful occupations in that world of glory, they 
have the same forms and features which were peculiar to 
them while living. The ancient Egyptians, who believed in 
the indestructibility of the soul, supposed that when it 
quitted the body it passed into some animal, and after its 
death into another, and so on, until it had performed a trans- 
migratory course of three thousand years, and was then 
absorbed by Deity. And the doctrine of transmigration, 
doubtless, originated in the impossibility of conceiving of 
the soul's existence independently of a bodily form; and 
regarding it as unfit to pass directly from its first habitation 
into the Divine nature, they sent it upon this long pilgrimage 
to obtain the necessary purity before it could be commingled 
with God. All nations, moreover, exhibited great* reverence 
for the remains of their departed. Some embalmed their 
dead ; and others who burned the mortal remains of their 



276 THE HOPE OF RESURRECTION 

friends, carefully collected the ashes and put them into urns, 
which were religiously preserved ; while those who buried 
their dead manifested an equal regard for the mouldering 
dust of beloved ones. And why was all this care, and to 
what can we ascribe this reverence for the ashes of their 
kindred, if they had not some dim conceptions of a 
mysterious destiny which they believed to hang around the 
body? While, therefore, w^e regard the resurrection of the 
dead as a doctrine which never could have been clearly 
understood without the light of revelation, we cannot escape 
the conviction that a vague impression of some future 
resuscitation and glorification of the human body was at all 
times present to the consciousness of mankind. 

But let us dismiss all conjecture, and pass out from the 
field of uncertainty, to tread that sure ground on which the 
light of God's infallible word shines. We will take the holy 
oracles of truth, ^' as a lamp to our feet, and a light to our 
path," in our examination of this subject. It has been 
asserted by some eminent Biblical critics, that there are no 
traces of this doctrine in the early Hebrew Scriptures. They 
profess their inability to find it in the Pentateuch, the books 
of Samuel, Kings, Job, the Psalms and others. Without 
controverting the views which these WTiters have advanced 
on a number of passages in the Psalms, in which Theodoret 
and many other distinguished men believe there is a clear 
recognition of the doctrine, w^e are reluctant to yield, 
without a struggle, that well-known and beautiful passage in 
Job, which speaks so pointedly on this subject, I cheerfully 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED 277 

gi'ant that we should be slow to hold an interpretation of any 
passage of scripture, which is in direct conflict with the view^s 
of such men as Jahn, Eichorn, De Wette, Grotius, Le Clerk 
and others ; but as the right of opinion is inalienable, so is 
the liberty of expressing our convictions unimpaired by any 
amount of testimony, however respectable, which may stand 
opposed to our view^s. And we cannot but believe that some 
more recent commentators have adopted the interpretation of 
these theologians of this passage, rather from the w^ant of 
independence of thought, than from obedience to their con- 
victions ; for great names are invested with a secret power 
w^hich often insensibly determines the mind in favor of their 
views. Notwithstanding, then, the number of learned ex- 
positors who regard the language of Job in the nineteenth 
chapter, 25, 26, and 27th verses, as expressing a hope of his 
restoration to bodily health, and deliverance from the pressure 
of his calamities, w^e are clearly of the opinion that he had 
reference to the resurrection of his body from the grave. It 
is maintained by those who differ from this view, that such 
an interpretation does not fall in wdth the design of the poem, 
the whole argument of Avhich is based upon a misconception 
of the design of affliction. Granting that the friends of Job 
labored under a misconception of the cause and object of 
affliction, and that this was the basis of the argument, it does 
not follow that every part and passage of the entire produc- 
tion must necessarily and rigidly conform to the design of the 
poem. There are many things incidentally, and sometimes 
designedly mentioned, ay, doctrines stated and illustrated 
24 



278 THE HOPE OF RESURRECTION 

in this and almost every other book extant, which would be 
deprived of their legitimate meaning under the force of this 
rule. All who read the Scriptures with ordinary attention, 
are familiar with the fact, that the inspired writers are often 
very sudden and even abrupt in their transitions from one 
subject to another. Take, as an illustration, the Psalms, and 
many of the Prophecies, where the particular design of the 
writer cannot be misapprehended, and yet w^e frequently find 
in the midst of a prophecy, the statement of some general 
doctrine, or the utterance of some glorious and startling truth, 
not legitimately connected wdth its primary design. But, 
perhaps, w^ith the large majority of men, this passage itself is 
its best vindication. There it stands out luminous upon the 
ancient book, as a beacon-light in a dark w^orld ; and to 
assign to it a different meaning from that which lies so 
obviously on its surface, w^ould be to obscure one of the 
brightest gems upon that oldest of all records. After touch- 
ing appeals to his friends, to aw^aken their sympathies in view 
of his afflictions, w^hich to all human appearance w^ere rapidly 
carrying him to the grave, he gives utterance to the assu- 
rances of his faith. '^ For I know that my Redeemer liveth, 
and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth, and 
though after my skin w^orms destroy this body, yet in my flesh 
shall I see God, w^hom I shall see for myself and not another, 
though my reins be consumed within me." As it is not my 
object to enter into an extended discussion of this passage, I 
will simply remark that he could speak with as much 
certainty of his resurrection, as he could of his restoration to 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 279 

health ; inasmuch as, in either case, he could only predict 
such an event under the tuition and inspiration of the Holy 
Ghost. Both events were involved in the obscurity of the 
future, and his recovery from affliction was not more 
probable than his resurrection from the grave. And many 
other considerations might be added, which w^ould multiply 
the difficulties of the other interpretation. And why should 
we blot out one of the first and most brilliant lights that shines 
out of the bosom of antiquity, to disperse the gloom of the 
sepulchre, and to cheer the afflicted and dying with the sure 
conviction that they have a living Redeemer who will rebuild 
the fallen tabernacle of the soul at the last great day ; and this, 
too, because in the estimation of a few, the doctrine of the 
resurrection falls not in w^ith the design of the poem. No ! 
we will not, we cannot so easily and upon such slight 
grounds, surrender it. Our affections cling to it, and w^e will 
rear a w^all of living, hopeful, and believing hearts around it, 
that shall cherish it as a precious legacy from our heavenly 
father. 

From this brief notice of the testimony of the book of 
Job in favor of the resurrection, w^e will direct the attention 
of the reader to such proofs as are undisputed. The 
passages are numerous, clear, specific, and incontrovertible, 
in which this doctrine is taught. In the prophecy of Isaiah 
it is w^ritten : '' Thy dead men shall live ; together with my 
dead body shall they arise ; awake and sing, ye that dwell in 
the dust, for thy dew is as the dew of herbs, and the earth 
shall cast out the dead." In Ezekiel, chap. 37, we have a vivid 



280 THE HOPE OF KESURKECTION 

picture of the restoration to national existence and prosperity 
of Israel, wasted and broken by their captivity ; but while 
this was unquestionably the primary design of that prophecy, 
it also proclaimed the power and purpose of God, as these 
will be illustrated in the general resurrection of the dead. 
But this doctrine, like the promises of the Messiah, grows 
clearer as we come dow^n from the beginning in the develop- 
ment of the plan of Redemption, until it bursts upon the 
world in all its effulgence. In Daniel it is announced, '^And 
many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake ; 
some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting 
contempt." This passage is easily understood without any 
comment. 

But whatever may have been the alleged obscurity in 
which this doctrine is involved in the Old Testament, it 
manifestly forms one of the most prominent of the Gospel. 
It was the frequent theme of discourse both of our Lord and 
His Apostles. Among the many declarations of the fact 
itself. His address to the inquiring Greeks who sought Him 
at Jerusalem, is designed to illustrate this great mystery. 
The splendor of His miracles, and the wisdom of His dis- 
courses had spread his fame far and w^ide. Never had it 
been known among men that a mere word recalled the dead 
to life ; that disease shrank from the presence and bidding of 
man ; and that a mere touch opened the eyes of the blind, 
or caused the w^arm blood to resume its circulation in the 
withered arm, before Jesus of Nazareth appeared in Judea. 
Need w^e wonder, then, that these miracles, in connection 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 281 

with the discourses of our Lord, attracted even the Greeks, 
who, perhaps, hoped to find in Him the messenger for whom 
their Plato longed, when he said, " We have need that one 
of the gods should teach us." And as His hour of suffer- 
ing was near, and all who had come to Jerusalem would 
witness His crucifixion, it was fit that He should prepare the 
minds of His hearers for that event, lest His death might 
stagger and overthrow their faith. ''Verily, verily, I say 
unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and 
die, it abideth alone ; but if it die, it bringeth forth much 
fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that 
hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal. If 
any man serve me, let him follow me; and w^here I am, 
there shall also be my servant." Here He brings forward 
the resurrection as the broad foundation upon which the hope 
of His followers should repose. A doctrine, perhaps^ some- 
what startling to the Greeks, but only the full utterance of 
what sometimes seemed obscurely present in their philosophy. 
For all nations who had among them those who were given 
to profound meditation and study, generally conceived 
Nature to be animated by the breath of the Almighty, and 
sustained by an invisible and eternal energy ; and, therefore, 
might recognise in its various phenomena symbols of 
those truths which pertained to the spiritual world; and 
particularly might the revivification of things dead in 
Nature suggest a similar return to life of the body which 
sank into the tomb. But if this might be deemed too 
great a triumph even for profound thinkers, it will not be 
24* 



282 THE HOPE OF RESURRECTION 

denied that the distance which they had travelled by the light 
of reason was so much of an approach to the great truth, that 
it had fitted their minds for the announcement of this doctrine 
of Christianity. They were not ignorant that they must die, 
but granting that they had no knowledge of that life which 
springs forth afresh from death ; they yet saw the same thing 
continually transpiring in Nature, and it was, therefore, not so 
difficult to believe that a like privilege awaited man. The 
seed must rot in the earth if it is to be reproduced ; and thus 
man must submit to this inevitable law of Nature, and 
undergo a change in the tomb if he would live forever. In 
view^ of such considerations, His death and burial, as our 
great forerunner, had nothing in them ultimately to overthrow 
the faith of His disciples ; forasmuch as He rose from the 
tomb and reappeared to them, and ascended with His glori- 
fied humanity to heaven, thus opening for his followers a 
passage from this world to a glorious immortality. This 
illustration, then, with which the Saviour has furnished us, 
divests death of its horrors, and takes away much of its 
bitterness, and even makes it desirable, since it has become 
the only passage to a blessed future. 

The truth of this doctrine is then based upon God's infal- 
lible word. Jesus Christ in the passage already cited, as also 
in a multitude of others, distinctly avows and declares that 
the dead shall rise. ^' I am the resurrection and the life ; he 
that belie veth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.'' 
*' The hour is coming in the which all that are in their graves 
shall hear his voice ; and shall come forth, they that have 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 283 

done good unto the resurrection of life, and they that have 
done evil unto the resurrection of damnation." ''And this 
is the will of Him that sent me, that every one which seeth 
the Son and beheveth on him, may have everlasting life, and 
I will raise him up at the last day." He confirmed the truth 
of these and similar declarations in the dominion He mani- 
fested over death and decay, by restoring to life the son of 
the wddow" of Nain and others ; but especially in raising 
Lazarus, who had been four days in the tomb. But this 
doctrine is rendered impregnable by His own resurrection 
from the grave. That his crucifixion resulted in death, there 
can be no question. And even shameless infidelity ought to 
blush, for uttering a contrary opinion. It is a pity that men 
w'hose corruptions compel them to be infidels, should attempt 
to impeach history. It is not manly to question the truth of 
well-authenticated records, and this would never have been 
attempted in the present case, did not infidelity divest its 
votaries of all the exalted attributes which belong to noble 
minds. Who could really believe that He was not dead "i 
He was in the hands of His enemies, and was subjected to 
such torture and suffering, that it is as idle as it is wacked for 
those hostile to Christianity to deny the fact. And that He 
rose and frequently appeared to His disciples prior to His 
ascension to heaven, is as w^ell attCvSted as any other historical 
fact which has ever been offered to the faith of mankind. 
Those who have testified to His resurrection, could have had 
no motive to deceive themselves and others; for their identifi- 
cation with Christianity was not the result of ambitious 



284 THE HOPE OF RESURRECTION 

aspirings, or the prospect of worldly honor or gain, but an 
honest conviction of its truth. What inducement could there 
have been to sacrifice their earthly all and peril their lives, 
simply to fasten an imposture upon the world ? Could men 
brave the terrors of martyrdom, the gloom of prisons, and the 
tortures of the rack, whose hopes of immortality were ground- 
less upon the supposition that the resurrection of Jesus was 
not true ? The w^itnesses to its truth were also of unimpeach- 
able character, and whatever their enemies might have 
thought and said of their religion, they could not allege any 
thing against the character of the disciples. They gave 
ample proof of their integrity and conscientiousness in all 
their convictions. And that they were competent to give a 
truthful testimony on this subject, is evident from the fact that 
they had been the intimate companions of Jesus for three 
years, and had a thousand times looked upon His person and 
heard his voice ; and when he appeared to them for the first 
time in their secluded chamber, they at once recognized their 
Master. And in order to dispel the idea that it was a mere 
apparition. He invites them to touch and handle Him, that 
they might know that it was the actual body in which He had 
suflTered upon the cross. And at every subsequent time that 
He showed himself to them, they had abundant opportunity 
of attentively regarding the person of the Redeemer. And 
that none might dispute His resurrection, He appeared at one 
time to about five hundred brethren, and last of all to Paul 
as that apostle informs us. 

If, moreover, we examine the records of apostolical labor, 



. BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 285 

we shall discover that all their preaching ultimately rested 
upon this cardinal truth. In that masterly discourse which 
Paul delivered to the cultivated Athenians on Mars-hill, he 
enforces the truths which he had uttered by the resurrection 
of Jesus. " God now commandeth all men every where to 
repent, because he hath appointed a day in the which he wdll 
judge the world in righteousness, by that man w^hom he hath 
ordained ; whereof he hath given assurance unto all men in 
that he hath raised him from the dead." Peter, in the very 
commencement of his epistle, breaks forth in the following 
beautiful language. '' Blessed be the God and father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, w^hich according to his abundant mercy 
hath begotten us again unto a lively hope by the resurrection 
of Jesus Christ from the dead." From a multitude of 
passages which might be cited, it is evident that the entire 
and magnificent structure of the gospel is based upon the 
resurrection of Christ. The apostle Paul in his admirable 
vindication of this doctrine in 1 Cor. chap. xv. administers 
not only a masterly rebuke to the errors w^hich had crept into 
the church, but distinctly states that the truth of Christianity 
has no other foundation upon which to repose, if this w^ere 
taken away. '' If Christ be not raised, your faith is vain ; ye 
are yet in your sins. Then, also, they which are fallen asleep 
in Christ are perished." It is manifest not only from this 
incomparable and triumphant vindication in this chapter, but 
from the whole gospel, that they attached the highest value to 
this doctrine. It constituted a prime article in their faith, 
and was full of consolation to them in all their trials ; for it 



286 THE HOPE OF RESURRECTION 

peopled the future with a glory, the grandeur of which 
relieved their sufferings of their gloom and poignancy. And 
its importance can certainly not be overrated by rational 
beings, for it underlies all our theology, and is the ground- 
w^ork of all immortal hopes. It connects the present and the 
future, and gives significance to all that is mysterious and 
solemn in the incarnation, the life and death of our Saviour. 
It breathes life into all the doctrines of the gospel, and 
makes the sacred page radiant with the hopes of eternal 
existence. For if the dead rise not, how can we vindicate 
the scheme of redemption, how solve the problem of our life, 
or reconcile the imperfect state of man in this world with the 
other works of God, which attain to their appropriate perfec- 
tion ? And, deprived of that hope which causes the ashes of 
our sainted to glow with immortality, and which opens to 
the contemplation of man beyond the grave scenes of ineffable 
grandeur and glory, what would there be left to animate the 
Christian w^ith fortitude under trials, or to comfort him amid 
the wreck of earthly hopes ? Very truly does the apostle 
observe — " If in this life only, we have hope in Christ, then 
are we of all men most miserable." For if Christianity is a 
fiction, death an eternal sleep, and immortality a dream, then 
may we adopt the Epicurean adage as a principle of action , 
— " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow w^e die." But as this 
is absurd and the doctrine of fools, we being immortal should 
live as immortals ; — live in accordance with the dictates of 
the laws, the elements and aspirations of our being, all of 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 287 

which unite their testimony with reason and revelation in 
proclaiming that we shall live forever. 

It is a precious consolation to the Christian that this body, 
in which he groans and suffers, in which he moves and acts, 
and whose members are consecrated to God and occupied in 
His service, shall become immortal. That this weak and 
frail tenement of the soul, so disordered and anguished by the 
effects of sin, shall at last rise from its humble dwelling in the 
dust, perfectly holy, and eternally triumph with the spirit 
in the presence of Jehovah. And equally precious is it to 
believe that God will reanimate the dust of His saints, and 
that they shall burst forth from the tomb arrayed in the glory 
of Christ. He, as the first fruits of the resurrection, has 
already ascended in His humanity to the presence of the 
Father, where His glorified body appears as the pledge for 
the fulfilment of the promise in all His followers, and as a 
confirmation of the truth that all who are joined by a living 
faith to Jesus shall be raised to the same happiness and glory 
in heaven. In view of this fact, Paul exhorts the Thessalo- 
nians in the following language : ^^ But I would not have you 
ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that 
ye sorrow not even as others who have no hope. For if we 
believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also 
which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him. For this we 
say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are 
alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not 
prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall 
descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the arch- 



288 THE HOPE OF RESURKECTION 

angel, and with the trump of God ; and the dead m Christ 
shall rise first; then we which are alive and remain shall be 
caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord 
in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Where- 
fore comfort one another w^ith these words." With such 
words, breathing exalted hopes, he would comfort those who 
were sorrowing for their departed. It is not the will of 
heaven that we should remain unaffected by afflictions, for 
this would defeat their end ; and there is no law^ in our 
nature which demands stoical indifference in our bereave- 
ments, for our sorrows are only outflows of a smitten soul ; 
but religion comes to our aid, to soothe and moderate our 
grief by its solid and exhaustless comforts, and by the glori- 
ous assurance that those who go down into the house 
appointed for all the living shall rise again. Blessed, glori- 
ous announcement, which pours such light into the tomb, and 
such precious consolation into our hearts ! 

The apostle John gives us in the Apocalypse a vivid 
picture of the transactions connected with the coming of 
Christ. When He shall come upon His great white throne, 
and the heavens and the earth shrinking from His presence, 
He shall call back to life the sleeping millions. The 
voice which once commanded and the universe arose, and 
the heavens were stretched out, and all the glowing orbs took 
up their line of march, will again be heard at the final day ; 
and as its vibrations travel over the earth, every grave will 
fly open, and every sepulchre will be uncovered. What an 
animating spectacle will the morning of the resurrection pro- 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 289 

(luce. With the breaking of its hght there will be a stirring 
of life in every cavern where a victim of death reposed ; 
while shouts of triumph and lamentations of despair are fill- 
ing the air, and mingling with the furious roar of burning 
elements, the crash of worlds, and the groans of an expiring, 
sin-burdened creation, until all are dissolved into quiet sub- 
mission at the feet of the great Redeemer, to hear their 
eternal doom. And not only the earth, but the " sea shall 
give up its dead." Millions have gone down into its un- 
fathomable depths. It is the common highway of the nations 
of the earth. It is the bond which holds in union and friendly 
intercourse the large family of nations ; while it is also the 
vast sepulchre where all kindreds have laid a portion of their 
dead. It is the great tomb of nations. Many who have been 
borne over its dark blue waves in search of pearls, and en- 
gaged in commerce, have gone down into its hidden caverns. 
Multitudes who fell in naval conflicts, and the victims of 
marine disasters, are committed to its trust. There the vessel 
that was freighted with hundreds of immortals was overtaken 
by the storm and shattered, and sunk with her precious 
cargo. There the pestilence has dropped upon the deck like 
a vievfless and dark spirit, and smitten those wandering to a 
new and distant home. To the sea has the emigrant com- 
mitted his beloved one, in the hope of the resurrection. The 
many disasters along the reefy and rock-bound coasts, as well 
as the fire and tempest on the open sea, are annually sending 
their thousands to this tomb. 0, what precious treasure does 
the sea hold over for the resurrection morn ! Much of silver, 
25 



290 THE HOPE oe resurrection 

of gold, and costly gems, have gone down into its bosom, 
and this wealth may lie unclaimed ; but all in whom the 
breath of immortality w^as found must be surrendered on 
demand. O, thou sepulchre of nations! thou capacious and 
unfathomable grave of the world ! thou shalt give up thy 
dead! 

** What weal thuntold, 

Far down and shining through thy stillness lies ! 
Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, 

AYon from ten thousand royal argosies. 
Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main, 

Earth claims not these again ! 

Give back the lost and lovely ! those for whom 
The place was kept at board and hearth so long ; 

The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, 
And the vain yearnings woke 'midst festal song ! 

Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, 
But all is not thine own ! 

To thee the love of woman hath gone down ; 

Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head. 
O'er youth's bright locks and beauty's flowery crown ! 

Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the Dead ! 
God shall reclaim His precious things from thee ! 

Restore the Dead, thou Sea." 

Contemplate for a moment, the grandeur of that scene! 
Let us shift ourselves forward to that marvellous and glorious 
spectacle. The night of death is past, the long silence of the 
tomb is broken, and the lustre of the morning of redemption 
bathes the world with its glory ! And although we cannot 
with all the aids which imagination and imagery furnish, rise 
in our apprehensions to the proper dignity and glory of that 
day ; we may behold faint reflections, and catch a few 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 291 

glimpses from the manifestations of Divine power, as ex 
hibited in the material world. As autumn is an emblem of 
death, so is spring an image of the resurrection. And it is 
the certainty with which we look forward to the renewal of 
the face of nature, that reconciles us to the autumnal decay 
of the beautiful things of earth. Without this assurance, it 
would indeed be a melancholy spectacle to witness our 
forests disrobed, our flowers fade, all the decorations of 
earth perish, and see all things passing into the desolations 
of winter. And thus also, would death be a dark and cheer- 
less destiny, could we not look forward through its gloom 
and see the light of the resurrection morn flashing upon our 
vision. And shall not this hope cheer bereaved hearts? 
Our dead shall rise again. That aged parent who w^ent 
down to the narrow house bent wdth the weight of infirmities 
and years, shall renew^ his youth ; that sweet sister whose last 
faint echoes still linger on our ear, shall again speak to us ; 
and that little angel form which w^e so often encircled, shall 
yet again fly to our embraces, for they shall rise again. God 
has so declared ; and from the annual recurrence of that 
season which robes in fresh glory our hills and valleys. He 
furnishes incontestable proof of His faithfulness and abihty in 
the performance of his promises. ''Forever, Lord, thy 
word is settled in heaven. Thy faithfulness is unto all 
generations." And if a feeble faith should sometimes be 
staggered when- it surveys the difficulties w^hich unsanctified 
reason has thrown around this doctrine of our holy religion, 
it may recruit its energies and reassure the heart by con- 



292 THE HOPE OF RESURRECTION 

templating those wonders which Almighty power causes to 
transpire w^ith unfaltering certainty in the world around us. 
We cannot see, neither can we understand the operations of 
that mysterious energy which is at play in the production of 
the phenomena of nature, and yet we witness and acknow- 
ledge its effects. And is it any more difficult to believe that 
God can, and that God w^ill raise his sleeping saints to life 
and glory? '' Why should it be thought a thing incredible 
with you, that God should raise the dead?" 0! it is not 
incredible nor impossible, since the veracity and omnipotence 
of God are pledged for its fulfilment. He will rebuild those 
fallen structures. Believe it, believe it, and be comforted, 
ye that mourn around the graves of the lovely and the 
beautiful. Though their frames are w^asting away, and their 
comeliness is lost in the mould of the tomb, they shall rise 
with a far more excellent glory than ever adorned them 
while bearing their earthly burdens. They will rise w^ith 
immortal natures. Their bodies will never more be liable to 
disease, to blight, and decay ; for they shall be fashioned 
like unto His own glorious body. And when risen incor- 
ruptible, the soul, once driven from that house, will 
return to inhabit it forever. And what a change, in compari- 
son with its former home! Then weak and corrupt, now 
perfected in its entire organization, the soul finds it fitted for 
the discharge of its high functions. Why should we, then, 
sorrow for our departed as those who have no hope? Nay, 
let us rather rejoice that, while we ourselves are hastening to 
the grave, and all earthly happiness and hopes are on the 



BRINGS CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 293 

wing and doomed to be wrecked, we may plant our hope 
upon the threshold of that day when every sleeper shall 
awake, and we, and those whom, in our deep affliction, we 
laid in the silent grave, shall rise to an immortality full of 
glory. ! it strips death of its terrors, and the grave of 
its gloom, when I am assured of God that my humanity shall 
share in the blessings of a glorious immortality. To know 
that this body, so often rent by anguish and racked wdth pain, 
shall share in the joys of an endless future, reconciles me to 
the afflictions of life, and makes me long for all those quali- 
fications which will give me a part in the resurrection of the 
just. For what need I fear from adversity, from fire, or 
sword, or death, when I know^ that these hands shall sweep 
an everlasting harp, these eyes behold the eternal throne and 
the wonders of Jehovah, and these feet, so wearily threading 
the path of life, shall stand in the midst of thee, 0, Jerusa- 
lem ! thou city of my God, my everlasting home ! 

25* 



CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF THE FAMILY BOND A 
SOURCE OF CONSOLATION TO THE BEREAVED. 



' Not in the grave, not in the grave, my soul 
Believe thy friend belov'd; 
But in the lonely hour, 
And in the evening walk. 
Think that he companies thy solitude!" 



There is a withering power in the stroke of death. It 
not only shatters ^^the harp of a thousand strings," and 
hushes its melody forever on earth, but the blow which stills 
the heart of a friend falls with stunning effect upon all who 
stood in intimate relation with him. A thousand persons 
feel at the same instant the electric shock, if they form an 
unbroken chain of contact with the battery ; and thus when 
one is stricken by death, all who are united with him by ties 
of friendship and affection instantly feel it. But while pain 
and grief accompany the removal of friends, and all looks 
desolate within and without, there is this consolation left us, 
that they are not lost, but gone, like orbs which are carried 
in their circle beyond the range of our vision, but which still 
exist and shine, though their light falls not around us. And 
surely the conviction that their.being is not extinguished — 

(294) 



THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF THE FAMILY BOND. 295 

not blotted from God's intelligent universe, but that they 
have taken their places among the exalted and holy, affords 
us consolation in our sorrow, and joy in our grief. And it is 
still more consolatory to know that they are yet ours ; that 
they are united to us by a bond which even death cannot 
impair. And to my heart there is nothing more cheering and 
sustaining under the pressures of bereavement than the con- 
viction that the changes which befall the relations of life only 
extend to the material, and leave the spiritual without weak- 
ness or bhght. It is a sad reflection, which forces itself upon 
the mind when contemplating the family circle, that it is 
destined to be broken up sooner or later. And it is, perhaps, 
on this accountj'that we seldom suffer our thoughts to dwell 
upon such an event, until it is no longer possible to avoid it. 
And on the part of many there seem to be studied efforts to 
keep themselves from anticipating that which is borne with 
such difficulty when it comes to pass. We instinctively turn 
from that day, which is winging its approach momentarily 
nearer, when one of us who compose that circle of warm 
hearts must leave those beloved scenes and friends, and go 
alone into eternity. We w^ould rather, w^hile looking upon 
our children, and they upon us, wish that the mildew^ of 
affliction and the gloom of desolation might never fall upon 
our abode of happiness. And it may seem to some an un- 
kind and unwarrantable intrusion to disturb the placid feel- 
ings of those w^ho have never yet been willing to entertain 
the idea that the hour of separation from those whom they 
love is coming. And if we were under the dark power of 



296 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF 

cheerless heathenism, it might be prudent not to think at all 
on the subject; but since life and immortality have been 
brought to light in the Gospel, and we are privileged to 
take a full view of the immense range of our destiny, it is 
both the dictate of reason and religion to consider every 
aspect which it may assume, and to ponder every particular 
which belongs to our history. 

Although we may dread the hour of separation, it will 
lighten the calamity if we are prepared for it. Instead, then, 
of avoiding all reference in our thoughts and conversations 
to the severance of those bonds v;hich unite us to each other, 
it should be the frequent subject of meditation and prayer. 
Regarding ourselves and those w^hora God has given us as 
immortal, and living with reference to our future existence, 
w^e may look upon all those changes to which w^e and our 
families are subjected in our progress to our final home, 
without dread. For what is a brief separation compared with 
an eternal union ? And it is after all, only an apparent, and 
not a real rupture of the family relation. It is a part of our 
destiny, and, if it be accompanied with pain, w^e find a 
compensation for the evil in the hope of that endless and 
glorious future, where we shall be reunited without the 
possibility of another separation. And w^hile we are ad- 
vancing towards the possession of that fadeless glory which 
they have already inherited, we are conscious of the lively 
exercises of love with which we cherished them w^hile they 
were living. Nothing can quench the fires of aflfection which 
their presence once kindled in our hearts, and we have no 



THE FAMILY BOND. 297 

reason to believe that their glorified spirits cease to cherish us 
amid the wonders and joys of their blissful home. We can 
form some idea of the sympathy which exists between friends, 
part of whom are in heaven and part on earth, from the known 
operations of our minds when as members of the same family 
our lots are cast in different localities. Members of the same 
household, as they attain maturity of years, choose different 
occupations, and their pursuits may be such as to make it 
necessary for them to live in different states, or countries, so 
that the parents of a numerous family may find themselves 
the second time the sole occupants of their dwelling. The 
sons and daughters are all gone, but the ties which unite them 
are not broken. If they lived affectionately and happily 
through their childhood, then their dispersion and the distance 
at w^hich they reside from each other, do not enfeeble, but 
rather strengthen the attachment which exists between them. 
The same bond which knit together in holy love their youth- 
ful hearts, still holds their spirits in sweet communion, though 
many thousand miles may intervene. This bond of union 
reaches across deserts, seas, and continents, gathering within 
its embrace all the members of the same fold. It is a part of 
our spiritual being, and claims an immortality with the soul. 
There is no affection which relates to earthly objects that is 
of equal strength and permanence. The youth who has 
gone to a distant land in pursuit of gain, carries with him the 
hearts of those whom he left behind. Is there a day that he 
is out of the thoughts of his parents? Is he not rather the 
constant subject of their conversation, their prayers, their 



298 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF 

anxieties and their hopes ? O ! there is a viewless chord that 
extends from heart to heart, and, like the electric wire 
which unites two opposite poles, instantly communicates to 
the one that w^hich transpires in the other. Has the mother 
given up her daughter to the missionary work in a far-off 
land, and is her child toiling for the advancement of the 
gospel amid the ^'habitations of cruelty?" Although she 
has cheerfully surrendered her to this glorious service, she 
has not ceased to love her. Her thoughts are continually 
wuth the absent one, and the outflows of her soul towards that 
beloved child become more and more abundant as the days 
and years of separation increase. Undying love brings her 
name frequently to her lips, and her image before her mind. 
And with equal tenderness do the absent ones cherish the 
loved ones at home. If they are thrown out upon the 
circumference of earth, their hearts turn as instinctively to the 
home of their childhood, as the needle does to the pole. 

It is not at their respective localities that they commune 
Avith each other, but around the place of their birth ; and 
whenever they revisit in imagination the familiar scenes of 
other days, those places are always peopled with those 
who once rejoiced with them in their earlier and happier 
years. 

This kindred feeling is not of sickly grow^th ; its roots 
extend into the holiest depths of human nature, and are 
nourished by the purest emanations of the spirit. One of the 
great laws in the material world, is that of affinity between 
things of a common origin and of common properties. This 



THE FAMILY BOND. 299 

is illustrated and proved through all the kingdoms of nature. 
But this law controls with like authority and even w^ith 
greater force in the world of mind, than it does in the world 
of matter. And thus we see that where there is a similarity 
of taste and disposition, and an identity of pursuit, there is a 
commingling of hearts. Great purposes are subserved, and 
benevolent ends are accomplished by this arrangement of 
Providence. A strong current of sympathy pulsates through 
our humanity, so that all those generous emotions and 
benevolent impulses of which w^e are capable, leap into em- 
bodied forms of relief, when calamities of one kind or another 
fall upon our brethren of mankind. It is asserted by philoso- 
phers, that the fall of a pebble sends its vibrations through 
the entire framework of the earth. And Melville, in discours- 
ing of the murderer Cain, carries this thought to a still higher 
elevation, and gives it a more sublime range, when he 
represents him as pursued and haunted by the outcries of all 
nature against him for his atrocious crime. " It may be, that 
fashioned as man is out of the dust of the earth, there are 
such links between him and the material creation, that when 
the citadel of his life is rudely invaded, the murderous blow 
is felt throughout the vast realm of nature ; so that, though 
there be no truth in the wild legend., that if the assassin enter 
the chamber where the victim is stretched, the gasping 
wounds will bleed afresh, yet may earth, sea, and air have 
sympathy with the dead, and form themselves into furies to 
hunt down his destroyer. It may have been more than a 
rhetorical expression when God assigned a voice to the 



300 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF 

ground that was saturated with human blood. And these 
maybe utterances which are more than the coinings of his own 
racked conscience to the murderer — utterances which though 
heard only by himself, because himself alone hath dislocated 
a chord in the great harmonies of creation, may speak pierc- 
ingly of the frightful atrocity, and invoke the vengeance of 
Heaven on the wretch who hath dared to withdraw one note 
from the universal anthem." Whether men would or would 
not subscribe to the sentiment in this eloquent passage from 
this gifted divine, none can have any reluctance about yield- 
ing their acknowledgment to the fact that there is a myste- 
rious sympathetic connection between all who are partakers 
of human nature. Humanity is a unit. And since all the 
children of men have a common origin, and are alike in all 
the essential properties of their being, therefore, if the laws 
of affinity and sympathy act any where with acknowledged 
force, it is in the human family. And we have an exemplifi- 
cation of the truthfulness of this, in those reciprocal influences 
which circulate upon the surface and through all the great 
channels of that entire body of social beings which covers the 
earth. When the tidings of distressing sufferings or disas- 
trous calamities which have befallen our brethren of the flesh 
on the opposite side of the globe reach us, the secret fountains 
of our nature are stirred to their holiest depths, and we share 
their misfortunes and sorrows. A fellow feeling makes us 
conscious that they are a part of us, and that our sympathy 
for them is eminently natural and rational. When the 
pestilence is desolating the cities of Persia, or China, or the 



« THE FAMILY BOND. 301 

plague is wasting the inhabitants of India, it is with painful 
feelings that we peruse the records of such devastations. It 
is with instinctive horror that we follow the invisible scourge 
from city to city and from kingdom to kingdom, while at the 
same time we participate in all those emotions of dread which 
cause men to shrink from the presence of the terrible destroyer. 
We sympathise with suffering, in whatever form and in what- 
ever locality it may be endured by man. A cry of distress 
once uttered, completes the circuit of the globe. Those 
yearnings for life and liberty which issue from hearts bleeding 
and quivering under the iron heel of the oppressor, mourn- 
fully echo through all the channels of our being, and pour 
their vibrations along every chord of our souls. A crushing 
burden, wherever it presses upon human hearts, is like a 
mountain cast into the sea, which will raise waves whose un- 
dulations will be felt upon the farthest shore. 

It is this same law of our being, schooled and elevated by 
our holy religion, which calls forth from the comforts of home 
and the endearments of friendship, the man, and the female 
delicately reared, and constrains them to present themselves 
to the church, and say, lo ! here are w^e, send us to publish the 
tidings of salvation to our benighted heathen brethren. And it 
is in the hope of benefiting the ignorant and degraded pagans, 
that difficulties are cheerfully encountered, and if these cannot 
be surmounted, they are meekly endured, yea, even life itself is 
surrendered by those who labor for the elevation of the race 
and the glory of God. Behold the servants of Christ scattered 
over all the earth, in the burning south and the frozen north, 
26 



302 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF ' . 

exposed to perils of every imaginable form, toiling on in their 
arduous work of establishing schools, of instructing the igno- 
rant, and of organizing churches, and thus opening fountains 
all over this desert world, that '' the streams which make glad 
the city of God," may flow out upon the wide fields of our 
weary humanity, and water and mature harvests for eternal 
glory ; and search for the motives which carried them out 
into those distant fields, and which sustain them in their self- 
denying exertions, and these will abundantly witness that it 
is the love of Christ and of souls which prompted them to the 
undertaking, and which supports them in their humane and 
Christian labors. This bond of union or fellow-feeling which 
unites the whole race, acts with such force as to create a 
deep concern in those nations who have been exalted above 
others through the influences of Christianity, for their more 
wretched brethren, so that they labor for the elevation and 
regeneration of the kindreds and tongues who are still sitting 
'' in the region and shadow of death." 

But this bond acquires strength, and acts more energetically 
in proportion as the circle of its operation is diminished. 
This is strictly philosophical, because in harmony with the 
laws of our being. It is the same power acting within a 
narrower compass ; and hence we have sentiments and feel- 
ings of nationality. We cherish a deeper interest for the 
citizens of this Republic than we do for those of other 
nations. And when travelling in a distant land we are 
thrown into the company of an American, our hearts warm 
towards him more than towards those of any other nation. 



THE FAMILY BOND. 303 

And under such circumstances we are still more strongly- 
attracted to him when we make the discovery that he is from 
the same State, and yet more when he is from the same city 
or neighborhood. Such a knowledge at once establishes 
confidence betw^een us, and we feel and converse as though 
we had alw^ays known each other. And yet the family bond 
rises superior to this in strength, in tenderness, and in dura- 
bility. It is the force and depth of a law wide and deep as 
humanity, operating within that circle of hearts which are the 
offspring of the same beloved parents. My brothers and 
sisters, father and mother, wife and children, are "bone of 
my bone, and flesh of my flesh." I cannot think or speak 
of them without feeling that we are '' one and inseparable." 
That those ties which link our hearts, and those chords w^hich 
bind our souls in union, are never to be broken. Why, if not 
in obedience to this law, does the child, whose father is an 
inebriate, or the victim of some other debasing vice, still love 
him who is shunned by society ? Why does the mother love 
that son w^ho has broken through every restfaint, and out- 
raged all the sensibilities of her heart, and cherish him after 
he has become a by-word and hissing in the w^orld ? ! it 
is because it is her child. The inspired waiters, and our 
Lord Jesus, have chosen the family bond, w^hen they w^ould 
illustrate the depth and strength of that love which our 
Heavenly Father bears to all his creatures. When God 
wished to assure desponding Israel of His tender care and 
protection. He put this language into the mouth of the 
prophet, '^ But Zion said, The Lord hath forsaken me, and 



304 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF 

my Lord hath forgotten me. Can a woman forget her suck- 
ling child, that she should not have compassion on the son of 
her womb ? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. 
Behold, I have graven thee on the palms of my hands ; thy 
walls are continually before me." There could not be a 
more forcible image of His tenderness and His undying com- 
passion for His people, than the one which is drawn from the 
ardent feelings which a faithful mother cherishes for her child. 
And thus, also, has our Saviour represented the love of God 
in the father of the prodigal. Although that wayward and 
profligate youth had dishonored the family, and forfeited 
every claim to parental regard, yet did he retain a place in 
the father's heart ; and when at last he did return a wreck of 
what he had been, and covered with every m.ark of a deep 
degradation, the yearnings and impulses of a parent's heart 
caused him to forget the feebleness of age and the guilt of 
his son, and he ran to meet him, and fell upon his neck and 
kissed him, and w^elcomed him with a baptism of tears. 
And there are, doubtless, many parents whose children have 
broken loose from the restraints of their authority, and have 
gone out into the world and grown worthless, who would 
bestow a similar welcome upon those erring ones if they 
w^ould but return to the bosom of those deserted homes. 
This bond of union stands second only to that which unites 
the soul to God by a living faith ; only that is higher and 
holier, and will triumph over natural affection. 

As an interesting and instructive illustration of the com- 
parative strength of natural and spiritual affection, I will sub- 



THE FAMILY BOND. 305 

mit a brief statement of the trial of a young friend. Some 
time ago a young man of fine abilities and a good education, 
and a member of one of the Jesuit orders in one of our large 
cities, was awakened by the spirit of God, and made to see 
the errors which abounded in the Roman Catholic Church ; 
and, after mature reflection, he terminated his connection 
w^ith it. A few months after this occurred, he made applica- 
tion for membership to the church of which I was pastor ; 
and after a careful examination of the motives which influ- 
enced him to renounce Romanism, the reasons for the 
hope that he cherished, and a suitable term of probation, 
he was duly admitted. Some time after his admission into 
church fellowship, he wrote home, informing his brother, who 
is a priest, of the change in his ecclesiastical relations, and 
the motives which induced the change. In answer to these 
tidings, he received a letter from his former bishop, and also 
one from his aged mother, written by his sister. The bishop 
strongly appealed to his natural affections, and said "he had 
seen too deeply into his heart not to feel assured that his 
beloved son would retrieve this fatal step, and expressed the 
hope of his speedy return to the bosom of the Holy Mother." 
But his mother seemed to be deeply affected, and her very 
soul was stirred by the new^s of her son's conversion to 
Protestantism. She threw all the tenderness and yearnings 
of her maternal nature into her letter, in which she besought 
him to retrace his steps. '' Were I not enfeebled by age," 
said she, *' I would cross seas and continents to gain your 
presence, and, like the mother of Augustine, I would throw^ 
26* 



306 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF 

myself at your feet, and would not stir until you would 
return to the faith. 0, my son, my son! my fallen son!" 
After telling him that prayers were offered in all the churches 
of the parish for his recovery to the Church, his sister informs 
him that his portrait, which hung in the parlor, and which 
was fondly looked upon from day to day, had been removed 
out of sight, and a picture of the Virgin Mary put in its 
place. It was a sore trial, for he fondly loved that aged 
mother, that brother and sister, and it was literally giving 
them up; but, blessed be God, he loved his Saviour more 
than these, and he stood unshaken amid those mighty appeals 
which fell upon his heart with unusual power. This shows 
the superiority of spiritual over natural affection. But, 
although he was wiUing for Christ's sake to have himself cut 
off and cast out of the hearts of his kindred, and they were 
ready, in obedience to the dictates of a superstitious system, 
to put out of sight the very image of the absent one that 
glowed so harmlessly on the canvass, all this could not 
destroy that family bond which made them one. For while 
ostensibly there is a gulf between them so wdde and deep 
that neither could venture to cross it, that bond of union 
which made them members of the same family reaches across 
that gulf; and do what they may, they cannot annihilate that 
affection w^hich they bear to each other. 

And this is surely not an isolated case ; for there are 
innumerable instances where such barriers interpose, that all 
personal intercourse is broken off between those of the same 
household ; but though they should even desire to extinguish 



THE FAMILY BOND. 807 

their love for those who are joined to them by ties of con- 
sanguinity, they shall not be able to do it. It is a law of 
their nature, and they must yield submission to its dictates. 
There is a father whose wishes have been thwarted concerning 
a beloved, perhaps idolized, child, whose disobedience to 
parental authority has banished her from his home and 
presence ; but although there may be a coolness and deter- 
minateness of aspect on his brow, and an inflexible sternness 
may mantle his features, w^hich would exclude the disobedient 
one from his house, yet, notwithstanding that forbidding ex- 
terior, that daughter has a home in his heart; and in secret 
he deplores her in all the bitterness of his soul. A kind 
Providence has, therefore, made a glorious provision, and 
placed it in our spiritual constitution wdth which to arm us 
against those calamities and changes which are incident to 
our earthly pilgrimage. We are united to those we love by 
eternal bonds. They may pass away from the earth, and we 
may commit their bodies to the tomb ; but this bond reaches 
beyond the sepulchre, and holds them in sweet embrace. 
Such a view is certainly not opposed to the teachings of the 
Scriptures, and is in strict conformity with the laws of our 
being, and the testimony of our inward consciousness. We 
are just as cognizant of the fact that w^e love our sainted 
friends, as we are that we affectionately cherish our fellow- 
pilgrims on earth. There is not a day that we do not hold 
communion with them, and they with us. For it is our 
privilege to believe that our departed are interested in our 
welfare, and perhaps permitted to attend us, and to minister 



308 THE INDESTRUCTIBLITY OF 

to US in our upward progress to eternal life. While they are 
elevated in their views and feelings above the possibility of 
experiencing pain (supposing them to be cognizant of our 
infirmities and imperfections), they may be round and about 
us, and render important service in the work of our salva- 
tion. But whatever the offices may be with which they are 
charged, we rejoice in the assurances of our hearts that the 
flow of affection between us and them continues in a current 
that is ever deepening and widening as we are progressing 
towards our eternal home. The indestructibility of this 
bond of family union is a gracious and exhaustless source 
of consolation to the children of God, and a conviction to 
which the soul clings with all its immortal energies. This 
thought is beautifully expanded in some stanzas by Words- 
worth, in a dialogue with a little girl whom he interrogates as 
to the number of their family 

** Sisters and brothers, little Maid, 

How many may you be ?" 
**How many ? seven in all," she said, 

And wondering looked at me. 
<* And where are they, I pray you tell ?" 
She answered, ** Seven are we, 
And two of us at Conway dwell. 

And two are gone to sea. 
Two of us in the churchyard lie — 

My sister and my brother ; 
And in the churchyard cottage, I 
Dwell near them with my mother." 
<< But they are dead; those two are dead! 
Their spirits are in heaven !" 
'Twas throwing words away : for still 
The little Maid would have her will, 
And said, ^' Nay, we are seven." 



THE FAMILY BOND. 309 

No poet, ay, no philosopher could have changed her mind, 
for none could reason out of existence this family bond. 
They were seven ; two were at sea, two at Conway, two 
were slumbering in the grave, and she was living with her 
mother — like the billows of the deep, which are distinct 
and many, yet form but one ocean. 

It is a blessed thought that we shall still love in heaven, 
and experience joy in the society of dear departed ones. 
How cheering the knowledge, while toiling through the world 
as strangers and pilgrims, that the bond of affection which 
unites us to hearts throbbing with the same high impulses, 
and animated with the same immortal hopes which thrill 
w^ithin us, is to last forever! And if w^e have beloved parents, 
brothers, sisters, companions, or children amid the glorious 
realities of that immortal state where one instant is w'orth all 
the concentrated delights of earth, w^e are linked by the 
strongest and tenderest ties to those amazing blessings which 
are at the right hand of God. Christianity throws a grandeur 
around the prospects of the believer, so dazzling that an 
angel might sink in silent wonder and admiration before it. 
And what motives do these considerations furnish to rear our 
children for heaven ! If we attune infant lips to praise, those 
notes of thanksgiving wnli vibrate forever. If the moulding 
hand of the Redeemer is drawn upon them, and the Holy 
Spirit teaches their hearts to make melody to the Lord, those 
melodies will be heard when the music of the spheres shall 
be silent. And ! w^hat rapture will spread through the 



310 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF 

entire circle, when all the members of our family shall have 
reached those blissful shores ! Who can imagine what we 
shall feel, when it can be said w^e are all in heaven ! When 
the last wanderer has come in wath songs of deliverance, and 
the shout rings through the armies of the redeemed — all 
home, home from the distant land — forever home! Let us 
rejoice in this union of hearts. Let us bless God for making 
the family bond durable as the soul. O ! my sainted mother! 
my beloved sister ! my beautiful angel boy, I will not deplore 
you as lost ; for ye are still ours, we are yet one, and shall 
forever be, for that bond w^hich unites us shall exist in all its 
vigor when the w^heels of the universe stand still ! When 
every mountain shall have fallen, it shall stand unimpaired; 
when every law" whose authority is acknowledged by material 
nature shall have been annulled, this law w^hich makes us 
one, shall be in force. When every river has run dry, and 
the sea is w^ithout a drop, this family bond shall roll through 
the immense channels of our immortal being, streams of 
glory. This assurance of the indestructibility of the family 
bond, fills even the grief-stricken with ecstacy, and sheds 
gleams of eternal sunshine upon the life, dark wdth afflictive 
bereavements. And is there not a depth of consolation in 
this, w^hich should reanimate wdth joy those desolate souls 
which are wasting aw^ay in sighs of grief ! Come to the cross, 
ye mourning and afflicted ones ; gather around the bleeding 
sacrifice of Calvary; steep those hearts in atoning blood, 
until, w^ashed and purified, they become the habitation of the 



THE FAMILY BOND. 311 

Holy Ghost, and he will give birth to such hopes as will shed 
a sweet peace over your w^ounded and weary spirits, while 
they will raise you into communion with the saints on high. 
And if we are exalted into fellowship with the Father and 
the Son, we shall finally ascend to the presence of God, 
" where there is fulness of joy, and to his right hand where 
there are pleasures forevermore." 



CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

AT THE SEPULCHRES OF OUR DEPARTED WE MAY 
ALSO LEARN THE RIGHT WHICH GOD HOLDS IN 
US AND OUR FAMILIES. 



** No man livetli to himself, and no man dieth to himself. For whether 
we live, we live unto the Lord, and whether we die, we die unto the 
Lord ; whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." 



In the death of those we love, God declares His sovereign 
right to us, and to ours. He alone has power to give life, 
and power to take it away. " We are the Lord's." And 
it is at the graves of departed ones that we realize the fact, 
that it is the Divine prerogative, to do with us and our 
families as the wisdom of His counsel may suggest best 
suited to promote His glory, and to advance our happiness. 
And if our minds are properly instructed in relation to the 
right which He holds in all His creatures, and our hearts are 
schooled to acquiesce in all the dispensations of His Provi- 
dence, we will be able to say in seasons of bereavement — 
'^It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth him good." 
'^ The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away : blessed be the 

name of the Lord." In the language of the Apostle which I 

(312) 



god's right in us. 313 

have placed at the head of this chapter, there are two impor- 
tant truths asserted. No man liveth to himself. Man is a 
part of a great system, a link in that chain which binds him 
in sympathy with all things. He is so connected with the 
great universe of mind, that he cannot so isolate himself as 
to act alone, or have tlie results of his actions terminate upon 
himself. It is utterly impossible for him not to affect others 
by his life and death. He will contribute his influence for 
evil or for good, to the community which is the sphere of his 
exertions. But upon this truth I will not dwell, and there- 
fore, at once pass to the consideration of the other, viz : 
" that we are the Lord's." We belong to God. " All souls 
are mine, saith the Lord, as the soul of the father, so also the 
soul of the son is mine." As the fashioner of our bodies 
and the framer of our spirits, He has the same sovereign right 
in us and our famihes, as He has in any of His other creations. 
As the CreatQr of the universe, it is perfectly just that " He 
has established His throne in the heavens, and that His king- 
dom ruleth over all." We question not his right to every 
system and planet, to every star which flames in the firma- 
ment above, to this earth with all its furniture, to every 
creature, rational or irrational, for He is the Almighty Maker 
of heaven and earth, of things visible and invisible. The 
Psalmist says, ^' the sea is His, for He made it." And the 
Lord himself says, '^ every beast of the forest is mine, and 
the cattle upon a thousand hills. I know^ all the fowls of the 
mountains; and the wild beasts of the field are mine — the 
world also and the fulness thereof." If we grant, therefore, 



314 THE SEPULCHRE AN EVIDENCE OF 

that He has an indisputable right to every creature, from the 
tall archangel to the worm which crawls in the dust; if the 
fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea ; if all the gems and 
the buried w^ealth of the earth, as well as the gold and silver, 
are His, then upon the same ground may His right be 
asserted to every human being. We are the Lord's by 
the right of creation. He is the centre from which proceeded 
that creative energy w^hich peopled immensity with its glow^- 
ing orbs, with its suns and systems. From the same source 
issued the wdsdom and power w^hich formed man, and which 
uphold him, for God is the fountain of his blessing, the spring 
of his joy, and the centre of his glory. 

There is no better, or higher right known or recognized 
in the universe, than that which God has in us. All nations, 
civilized and barbarous, Christian and pagan, concede the 
right of property to him who is the originator or producer of 
a thing. And the law of the land throws its shield of protec- 
tion over the productions of man's physical or intellectual 
energies. The creations of genius, as w^ell as the fruits of 
humble toil, are secured to their proper owners. If an 
individual invents some nicely contrived machinery, by which 
labor is lessened in the production of some article of com- 
merce, and it thus becomes a source of gain, he is protected 
in his right, and in whatever of distinction or profit it may 
confer upon him. The sculptor sits down to a block of 
marble, and by patient toil, directed by the force of a high 
genius, elaborates a human form clothed with grace and 
beauty, and fitted to adorn the cabinet : and he not only 



GOD S RIGHT IN US. €515 

claims, but all men cheerfully accord to him the right of 
property in it. And if he had the power to clothe that 
statue with muscles of flesh, and place within it a throbbing 
heart and heaving lungs ; and if he could endow it with 
intellectual and moral faculties, and make it a thing of life, 
of motion, and of thought, it would be no less his. And this 
is precisely what God has done for every human being. He 
has besto\ved upon us the powders of sensibility and of 
thought. '' We are fearfully and w^onderfully made," '' and 
the breath of the Almighty hath given us understanding." 
And having made us, has He not a right in us, far more just 
and absolute, than the artist has in the production of his 
genius ? And may not He, w^ithout the slightest infringement 
upon the laws of justice or propriety, dispose of us in any 
way that his pleasure may dictate or his glory demand ? And 
the argument loses none of its force, \vhen it is applied to 
any thing which we possess, whether it be property, or friends, 
or children ; for all are the gift of Almighty God. These 
are treasures loaned to us by the Lord, and may be demanded 
by Him at any time. And if He has need of the services of 
our friends or children elsewhere, and removes them, 
not reluctantly, but cheerfully should they be surrendered. 
When He would place another gem in the Redeemer's 
diadem, add another note to the lofty anthem of redeeming 
love, or needs another ministering spirit in the execution of 
the work of redemption, it should be a matter of gratulation, 
if we are privileged to furnish God one from our fold, for the 
accomplishment of such an end. We should early learn this 



316 THE SEPULCHRE AN EVIDENCE OF 

lesson, and always cherish a realizing sense of His right in 
us and our families. And do we not offer our infants to the 
Lord in Holy Baptism, and thus solemnly consecrate them to 
His service, and by this means virtually acknowledge His 
right to claim them whenever it seemeth Him good to transfer 
them from earth to heaven ? We should , therefore, resign 
them to His arms without a murmur. 

We find a very interesting illustration on this point, in the 
history of a Swiss lady, and the wife of an honorable and 
distinguished nobleman. Having been carefully educated in 
the great principles of Christianity, she was known as a 
woman of eminent piety, who had correct views of God's 
right to all that He had placed in her possession. Her 
marriage was blest with two little boys ; and these being the 
only children, both parents ardently cherished them. They 
w^ere spared to them, until they had arrived at that interesting 
age when the body glows with its highest charms, and the 
mental and moral faculties unfold in such a manner as to 
make youth exceedingly lovely. Gentle, amiable, and intelli- 
gent, they were truly the jewels of their fond parents. Some 
important business about this time called the father away 
from his home, and during his absence they took ill 
and died, a short time before he had returned. He had 
known nothing of their illness or death ; and his excellent 
wife, feeling the importance of gently breaking the painful 
intelligence, as soon as she had welcomed him home, thus 
addressed him : ''My husband, I have something to tell you, 
which I did during your absence, and must know at once, 



god's right in us. 317 

whether it meets your approbation. While you were away, 
a friend of mine who some years ago loaned me a number of 
jew^els, came here and said that he needed them, and there- 
fore found it necessary to demand them. I told him that as 
my husband as well as myself greatly valued them, I w^ould 
prefer, if he could wait until your return, and I would then 
restore them ; but this he declined, and kindly but firmly 
claimed them ; and so I surrendered them to the owner. 
Did I do right, my lord ?" The husband replied, ^' How can 
my good wife ask me such a question ? surely it was right." 
'' Come then," she said, ^'this w'ay;" and leading him to the 
couch where she had laid her loved ones, she lifted the white 
sheet from her lovely boys who were sleeping in death, and 
said, " These are my jew^els. God gave them ; God claimed 
them while you were away, and I gave them up," and she fell 
upon his bosom and wept. The intelligence was well broken, 
for, as soon as the stricken father could command utterance, 
he said, " The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away, blessed 
be the name of the Lord." 

But w'e are the Lord's not only because w^e are the 
creatures of His pow^r, but also because to this right of 
creation He adds that of preservation. He w^ho stretched 
out the heavens, and formed the earth, and created man upon 
it, is also the gracious Preserver of all things. The creating 
and sustaining power reside in the same Being. The preserv- 
ing mercy or providence of God extends over all the 
universe ; it is felt in the world farthest from His throne, 
and in the least as in the greatest of objects. Systems, suns, 
27* 



318 THE SEPULCHRE AN EVIDENCE OF 

and stars, are fed by His light, and clothed with glory by His 
hand ; and all are moved by the impulse of the Almighty's 
will. And thus, also, does His merciful providence extend 
over us, and hold us in being. We are as dependent upon 
God for life and its varied blessings, as the infant is upon the 
bosom of its mother from which it draws its nourishment. 
The Apostle expresses this idea very forcibly when he says, 
^'In Him we live, and move, and have our being." Inde- 
pendently of His preserving mercy, there is no life and no 
blessing. Pluck up a tree or a plant by its roots, and thus 
destroy its connection with the earth, and it will quickly die. 
And thus if God's providential care should be withdraw^n 
from us, we would cease to exist. We hold the same rela- 
tion to His sustaining powder as the members do to the body ; 
and just as this arm, if severed from its source of life, w^ould 
fall to the earth and rot, thus, also, w^ould w^e instantly perish 
were w^e cut off from the vital source of all things. If He is, 
therefore, the author of our being and the preserver of our 
lives, we are unquestionably His property. And if in His 
wisdom He removes us, or any that w^e cherish. He is only 
enforcing that right to us w^hich we have already acknow- 
ledged, and must daily acknowledge. And not only does 
God claim us because He has brought us into being, 
and preserves us from day to day, but He is continually 
occupied in doing us good. We breathe His air, enjoy 
His sunshine, drink refreshing draughts from His fountains, 
and are nourished by the fruits w^hich His providence 
produces. There is no blessing of which He is not the 



gob's right in us. 319 

author ; for " every good and every perfect gift cometh 
down from the Father of lights, with w^hom there is no 
variableness, neither shadow of turning." If in this worJd a 
human being could be divorced from all the favors of Provi- 
dence, what would there be left ? 

And while it is of His infinite and spontaneous mercy that 
we are upheld and nourished, He gives us all needful bless- 
ings in rich abundance. His smiles fell upon our helpless 
infancy, and the light of His countenance illumines our path 
through life. And while we are urwJer solemn obligations to 
love and to serve Him, and to place ourselves and all w^e 
have at His disposal, in view of the manifold favors which 
we have received from His hands. He has also been to us a 
covert from the storm, and a shield in the day of peril. He 
has guarded us from dangers seen and unseen. When 
visible calamities threatened to overwhelm us. He reached 
over us His protecting arm. And the records of eternity 
will only reveal the countless, unseen dangers from W'hich 
the hand of Jehovah delivered us along the journey of life. 
It will then be made manifest how ''He gave His angels 
charge concerning us;" how they encamped about us by 
night, and watched over us by day ; for " white- winged 
angels meet the child on the vestibule of life," attend it 
through its pilgrimage, and hover around the cofRn of old 
age, and never relinquish their ministering office until they 
have borne the spirit to the bosom of God. And it is this 
sleepless anxiety, this fatherly solicitude which the great God 
every moment exercises over us, that gives Him an undoubted 



320 THE SEPULCHRE AN EVIDENCE OF 

right to us who are the objects of His care, and the recipients 
of His mercies. 

But there is another right recognized among men as just 
which God holds in us, and that is, the right acquired by 
possession. " By the law of nations the first discoverer of a 
country is regarded as entitled to its possession ; and the 
inventor of an art hath a right of exercising it." And if it 
be deemed just (and mankind are agreed as to this,) for a 
nation to claim the ownership in a continent or an island by 
virtue of its discovery and possession, though they could 
have had no agency in the formation of its soil, or the crea- 
tion of its w^ealth, how much more may God claim us as His 
rightful property, when He has made us, and possessed us 
from our infancy! It was under His fostering care that our 
minds w^ere taught to think, and our hearts to feel. He held 
us within the embraces of His love and the circle of His 
protection; and in the light of His favor and under the 
gracious influences which He breathed upon us, our souls 
have grown to their present expansion. Those objects in 
the external w^orld which excited our minds to intellectual 
efforts, and which warmed our affections into life, were 
placed there by His hand. Those glowing heavens w^hich 
kindled admiration in our souls, which gave wing to our 
thoughts and grasp to our imaginations; those varied 
landscapes, and bold mountains, magnificent rivers, and 
capacious seas, whose beauty and grandeur charmed 
our eyes, invigorated and expanded our intellects, WTre 
all fashioned and adorned by infinite power. " Lift up 



god's right in us. 321 

your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these thhigs, 
that bringeth out their hosts by number : He calleth them all 
by names, by the greatness of his might, for that He is strong 
in power, not one faileth." And w-hile all those objects in 
nature w^hich have contributed to the development of our 
intellectual faculties, w^ere created by the Lord ; thus, also, 
must that moral excellence which any of us possess, be 
ascribed to those divinely ordained instrumentalities and 
influences which have come from Him. No human agency, 
apart from the divine blessing, can refine, elevate, and 
sanctify our spiritual being. All good desires, and all 
virtuous actions, must be regarded as the products of the 
Holy Spirit. So that, in w^hatever light w^e may regard our- 
selves, w^e are emphatically the Lord's. '' He has fearfully 
and w^onderfully made us;" — taught our bodies to move, our 
minds to think, and our hearts to love ; and therefore, in view 
of these considerations. He has a perfect right to us, and 
to dispose of us, paramount to that of the potter over his 
vessel. 

But w^e are the Lord's by purchase or redemption. Man, 
by his voluntary disobedience, fell under the displeasure of 
God. He forfeited every claim to the Divine favor, and 
became the victim of a painful vassalage, and the slave of 
sin. *' He was sold under the law^," and no created pow^er 
could redeem him from the curse which he had brought upon 
himself. Doomed to everlasting wo, God might have left 
him in this lamentable condition without bringing any reflec- 
tion upon His government. He might have permitted this 



322 THE SEPULCURB AN EVIDENCE OF 

whole rebellious race to lie forever under the weight of a 
deep damnation, and His throne would have remained spot- 
less. But His mercy restrained justice, and so eloquently 
pleaded the cause of the fallen, that the adorable Son of God 
compassionated our condition, and covenanted wdth the 
Father to assume our debt, and to suffer in our stead, the 
penalty of the violated law\ It was the law of a great God, 
and a great empire, which had been broken, and it demanded 
a sacrifice for atonement, corresponding in dignity wdth the 
divine statute. None but the Supreme law-giver could furnish 
an expedient, and hence Jesus Christ alone could redeem us. 
By a union of His divine nature wdth the human. He could 
make an adequate atonement, for His sufferings would be as 
infinite in their merit, as were his perfections in dignity ; and 
thus He constitutes the link in that chain w^hich binds us in 
reconciliation with God. '•' For w^e are redeemed not with cor- 
ruptible things, such as silver and gold, but wdth the precious 
blood of Jesus Christ, w-ho was slain as a lamb without spot 
and without blemish." '^ He w^as w^ounded for our transgres- 
sions, and with his stripes w^e are healed." '' The Lord hath 
laid on Him the iniquity of us all." And it was in virtue of 
His atoning sacrifice that the whole race became his propeity. 
To Him, are promised, '' the heathen for his inheritance, and 
the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession." In view 
of His humiliation and death, " the Father also hath highly ex- 
alted Him, and given Him a name above every other name. 
That at the name of Jesus," as the great mediatorial king, 
*' every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in 



god's right in us. 323 

earth, and things under the earth ; And that every tongue 
should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God 
the Father." It is not necessary to enlarge upon this point in 
order to prove that we are Christ's, and that He has a sovereign 
right in those whom He has redeemed ; suffice it to say, that the 
law of the universe recognized us as slaves to a perpetual bond- 
age, and by the authority of that law, Jesus Christ has obtained 
an eternal right to the whole human family. Among the ancient 
R6mans there was a statute called "the redemption law," 
which allowed citizens to purchase captives taken in w^ar, 
and subject them to involuntary servitude for life, or free them 
at their pleasure. But when persons of this class were 
emancipated by their masters, it was considered that gratitude 
and friendship should cause the captives to remain in the 
service of him who befriended them, by first redeeming them, 
and then giving them their freedom. And should not our 
love for our compassionate Redeemer, act with such force as 
to make us His wiUing servants, and induce us to place our- 
selves and our all at His disposal ? For, has He not redeemed 
us from a worse slavery, and possessed us of a more glorious 
liberty? A few years ago, a wealthy gentleman of New 
Orleans manumitted two slaves, w^ho had faithfully served 
him, and legally secured ample provision for their support, 
and shortly afterwards died. And now, these colored men, 
thus befriended, out of gratitude to their benefactor, spend 
several hours each day in scouring the marble of his tomb, 
and in decorating with fresh flowers, the place of his repose. 
Whatever we may think of the manner in which they show 



324 THE SEPULCHRE AN EVIDENCE OF 

their gratitude to their former master, we must admit that 
they exhibit a commendable appreciation of his goodness. 
And if we appreciate the kindness of our Divine Master, and 
properly vahie the benefactions with which he has crowned 
us, should we not be willing to give to our exalted Re- 
deemer, a few of the flowers which adorn the garden of our 
home, wherewith He may decorate His throne in heaven ? 
Yes! we, our children, and friends, are all Thine, blessed 
Saviour, for Thou hast purchased us with Thy anguish and 
blood ; and we will not withhold from Thee, those whom 
Thou wilt make partakers of Thy glory. 

Such a recognition of the Divine right to us and our 
families carries with it many blessed advantages. It will 
exert a good influence upon us while we are occupied in 
their education, and in making provision for their support. 
It will incline us to bring up our children in the nurture and 
admonition of the Lord, so that, when they are removed 
from earth, they may be fitted for heaven. With just con- 
ceptions of the relation which they and we sustain to God, 
our influence over them, and our training of them, wdll all be 
regulated in such a manner as to secure for us all the Divine 
approbation. It will, also, induce us to bestow a higher care 
and culture upon their souls than upon their bodies. Regard- 
ing them as youthful immortals, we will strive to invest them 
with those spiritual adornments which will fit them to shine 
not so much upon the theatre of this world as in the king- 
dom of their Father above. And w^e w^ill be much more 
concerned to make them heirs of the riches of eternal glory, 



god's right in us. 825 

than to make them the inhei-itors of those treasures which are 
transient and perishable. For a titje to the mansions of God 
and to the fields of light, written by the Spirit upon their 
hearts, w^ll, in our estimation, far exceed in value the parch- 
ment that would make them heirs of earthly kingdoms. 
And when there are unremitted efforts put forth on our part 
to bring them to a knowledge of Him, whom to know aright 
is life eternal, we can scarcely fail of success, since God is 
striving with us for the accomplishment of the same end. 

This acknowledgment of the Divine right in us and to our 
families will also exert an important and determining power 
in regard to the pursuits in which we might wish our children 
to engage. We will not withhold them from any work or 
position which the providence of God clearly marks out for 
them. We will not object, but rejoice, if they choose even 
the most self-denying and arduous callings, if by so doing 
they glorify God, and secure the salvation of their souls. 
And while it will reconcile us to any sacrifice of feeling or 
comfort which we may endure when God calls a child to 
labor in some distant field, it also compensates us by the 
delightful assurance that the energies of its being are devoted 
to their appropriate use. But a recognition of this right 
will also exert a good influence upon our attachments. These 
will be formed with reference to, and in subordination of, the 
Divine right in the objects we love. We will cherish each 
other as immortal beings, so that when death parts us we 
acquiesce in the dispensation enforcing the right which 
28 



826 THE SEPULCHRE AN EVIDENCE OF 

God holds in our friends. And thus, in every bereavement 
will we see the finger of the Lord, and find consolation 
for our grief-stricken hearts. This doctrine carries a sweet 
savor into all the relations of life, and clothes all things with 
an unearthly charm. In its light I look upon myself and my 
family as the property of God ; and I must not, therefore, 
put my faculties, my time, and talents, to any other use than 
that which He has designated. The sphere which He has 
appointed is the only appropriate sphere for my exertions. 
The work which He has commanded I must cheerfully per- 
form. And so far as my influence can control the lives and 
actions of others, it must be exerted to bring them into con- 
formity with the Divine will. In what an interesting light 
w^ill all things be conteraplated, if we cherish sentiments 
wdiich recognize God as the owner and ruler of them. 
And with such views, how easy it is to consecrate our mental 
and moral faculties, our property, and our children, to the 
service and glory of Him whose we are ! ! it stamps an 
immortal w^orth upon our bodies and souls, and throws an 
inconceivable grandeur around the destiny of human beings. 
And where there is a hearty acknowledgm.ent of this right, 
and a full surrender of ourselves to Him who claims us, we 
pass from a state of sin to a state of holiness ; and from the 
bondage of corruption and the gloomy prospect of eternal 
wrath to the heirship of unclouded and everlasting glory. 
For when we believe that we are His by creation, preserva- 
tion, and redemption, and receive Jesus Christ in all His 



god's lUGllT IN US. 327 

fulness and all His offices, we enter into the possession of 
all things. All things are your's, says the Apostle. And to 
what an exalted position are Christians then elevated! We 
have an interest in, and a right to, all the universe, for we are 
heirs with Christ — heirs of all the worlds which people im- 
mensity, of all the blessings and resources of universal 
dominion, and of all the glories which may be evolved 
through the tremendous cycles of endless duration out of the 
unfathomable bosom of eternity and the infinite nature of 
Jehovah. And with such a hope, death itself becomes one 
of our greatest earthly blessings, forasmuch as it ushers us 
into this boundless circle of high and perpetual glory. And 
wiiile we find in this assurance every thing to sustain us, it 
also reconciles us to the departure of those we love. For to 
w^hatever comfort, happiness, honor, and renown they might 
have been exalted on earth, all honorable distinctions here 
are but as a drop to the ocean, w^hen compared with their 
portion in eternity. Let us, then, devoutly acknowledge 
God's right in us and our families ; and by earnest prayer 
and lively faith draw upon our homes those gracious influences 
from above, which will beautify our souls with salvation, and 
qualify us for an abundant entrance into the ^^ rest which 
remaineth to the people of God." Lord Jesus, do Thou help 
us to recognize in Thy blood-stained cross the infinite price 
which Thou hast paid for our redemption, and draw us with 
the sweet influences of Thy grace, andnnould us into Thine 
own image ; for 



328 THE SEPULCHRE AN EVIDENCE, ETC. 

** Thou art the source and centre of all minds, 
Their only point of rest, eternal Christ ; 
From thee departing, they are lost, and rove 
At random, without honor, hope, or peace. 
From Thee is all that smoothes the life of man ; 
His high endeavours, and his glad success ; 
His strength to suffer, and his will to serve I 
But ! thou bounteous giver of all good, 
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown ; 
Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor, 
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away." 



CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 



FUTURE HECOGNITION 



^*I felt that however long to me 
The slumber of the grave might be ; 
I should know him again, 'mid the countless throng, 
Who shall bear a part in the Seraphim's song." 



Shall we know our friends in heaven ? This question 
has been either silently or audibly uttered by all thoughtful 
minds, while lingering around the remains of their departed. 
Such an intense interest hangs around this subject, that it 
may be safely presumed, no one can be altogether indif- 
ferent to the answer which may be given to the question. 
And while nothing more than detached or incidental remarks 
from others have fallen under my notice ; and to my 
knowledge, no elaborate discussion to disprove this univer- 
sally received doctrine has ever been attempted, it is some- 
w^hat remarkable that the interrogatory should be so frequently 
and anxiously addressed to us by those bereaved ones, to 
whom we administer the consolations of the gospel. But is 
not this fact in itself the most conclusive proof of the 
intensity of feeling with w^hich the subject is pondered in 

28* (329) 



330 FUTURE RECOGNITION. 

their own hearts ? Even those who have no doubts as to its 
truthfulness, feel as though they must be reassured and 
established in the belief, that they shall know those in heaven 
Avhom they loved on earth. And in a matter so vitally 
connected with our peace, and which is so eminently fitted 
to beget within us a holy resignation to the Divine dispensa- 
tions, and inspire us with the most delightful anticipations, it 
is certainly proper to gather all the light and argument which 
it is possible to furnish on this subject. And more particu- 
larly, because, while it animates the Christian in his upward 
journey, and arms him with fortitude under trials, it presents 
a powerful inducement to the neglecters of religion, to 
renounce their sins, and to seek that moral preparation which 
is absolutely essential to bring them into blessed reunion with 
sainted friends. But to feel the truth of a subject, and to 
unfold it intelligently, and to establish it logically, are very 
different things. All persons know the refreshing qualities 
of w^ater, and yet many cannot describe its constituent parts. 
All know the importance of light, in those revelations of the 
world around us which it makes to our vision ; and yet while 
all may know the effects it produces, many may be unac- 
quainted with its properties and its laws. And thus it is in 
relation to some moral subjects, which are more particularly 
matters of faith ; they may be felt with all the certainty of a 
demonstration, and yet lie beyond the range of our discern- 
ment and proof. All things which pertain to the invisible 
world, are shrouded in mystery and obscurity, if the light of 
revelation has not fallen upon them and discovered them to 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. 331 

our apprehension. And while the scriptures do not speak so 
clearly and distinctly on this subject, as upon many others, 
they give us intimations in relation to it, which cannot well 
be misunderstood, and open to us a large iSeld where we may 
gather inferential proof of a strong and decided character. 
These we shall bring forward in their appropriate place. The 
first reason which we would assign for our belief in this 
doctrine, is, that according to our apprehensions of the bless- 
edness of the saints in heaven, the recognition of those with 
w^hom we were intimately associated, and whom we loved 
on earth, forms an important element of future happiness. I 
am aware, that persons in speaking of the felicity of the 
righteous, have sometimes expressed themselves in a manner 
which might induce the belief, that their souls are so filled 
with the Divine glory, that God forms the only object of their 
enjoyment, admiration, and rapture. And while we readily 
concede that the manifestations of the adorable Trinity, form 
the prominent and chief source of the glory of the redeemed ; 
we cannot suppose that there will be such an absorption in 
God, that all other objects fitted to contribute to their felicity 
will be set aside, or annihilated. On the contrary, we are 
permitted to believe that other things, apart from God, will 
be contemplated and enjoyed with satisfaction. The blessings 
and mysteries of redemption constitute a theme to which 
sainted as well as angelic minds will forever turn with 
increasing wonder ; but our conceptions of heaven make it 
necessary that other things should become tributary to their 
happiness. From the structure of the mind, as well as from 



332 FUTURE RECOGNITION. 

our experience in regard to our intellectual and moral opera- 
tions, variety in the objects contemplated, and in the exer- 
cises engaged in, are necessary to happiness. And we 
cannot allow that such a constitutional change in our 
intellectual structure will take place, that the present laws, 
and tendencies of the mind wdll all be inoperative in the 
w^orld to come. It is conceded and expected, that the 
amazing works of infinite power — the universe with its 
gorgeous furniture — its systems and worlds, as viewed with 
the rapid glance of the mind with its enlarged capacities, will 
be productive of ineffable delight. And if the visible glories 
with Vv^bich Deity has garnished the residence of his saints, 
are designed to increase their pleasure, and to heighten their 
rapture ; have we not still stronger ground to believe that 
the friendships and associations of earth, which are so inti- 
mately interwoven with our thoughts and feelings, and which 
enter into the very texture and frame-work of our nature, 
will be allowed to subserve a yet higher office in the promo- 
tion of our happiness in the celestial home. 

That this supposition is not visionary, but rational ; appears 
from the fact, that human beings are eminently social ; and 
next to communion with God, there is no other source from 
which we derive so much elevated enjoyment, as from the 
society of kindred minds. And the more intimately w^e are 
united with each other, the richer and holier is the pleasure 
which we experience. And instead of being sinful, this bond 
of union when sanctified, becomes an element of religion. 
The love which we bear to each other, is the basis of all' 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. 333 

social happiness! Supreme love to God is the first and 
greatest duty of man, and the legitimate offspring of this 
supreme affection for the Lord, is love to our fellow-creatures. 
We are required to love our neighbor as ourselves. And if 
that love which we cherish for each other, and which forms a 
part of our nature, is sanctified and elevated into vital union 
w^ith that love which w^e have for God, it is manifest that the 
one cannot perish any more than the other. It forms a part 
of the Christian's being, just as certainly, as love to the Su- 
preme Being forms the bond of union between God and his 
saints. And passing into eternity wdth this imperishable 
principle of love for each other, could we be happy without 
know^ing those whom w^e do love ? Or rather, could w^e love 
those whom we do not know? Is not a knowledge of the 
character of God, anterior to the existence of the love which 
we cherish for Him ? Can we love anything without an 
acquaintance w^ith its properties or appearance ? We admire 
the landscape only after we have looked out upon the beauti- 
ful objects with which it is diversified ; or when its character 
has been brought to our perceptions through some other 
agency than the eye. And upon this same basis do we place 
our argument, for the truth of the doctrine under discussion. 
There could be no love for each other in heaven, if there be 
no recognition of friends there. But as w^e are assured by 
the oracles of truth, that love is the great law of heaven and 
ithe fountain from which the chief blessings of the redeemed 
flow ; we deem the argument conclusive, that w^e shall know" 
each other in our future home. It can be readily seen, that 



33-i FUTUllE llECOUNITION. 

without the admission of this doctrine we are driven to the 
only alternative ; the belief that our nature will be essentially 
different then, from w^hat it is now. But what ground have 
we to warrant such a conclusion ? For while the Scriptures 
teach us that we shall carry nothing sinful into the habitation 
of the blest, ^'for nothing that defileth can enter there," they 
leave us to infer, that our humanity with its sanctified affec- 
tions and all its essential properties, shall ascend into the 
presence of Jehovah. 

We might also contend for the truth of this doctrine on 
the ground that it is not opposed to reason. It may, indeed, 
be affirmed with truth, that unaided reason could not, from 
its deductions, positively assure us that we shall know each 
other in the future world ; but then the doctrine does not 
conflict with any of its conclusions. On the contrary, it is 
reasonable to infer, from the known character of God and 
His dealings with His creatures, that He will deprive them 
of nothing which is conducive to their happiness, and not 
hurtful to their souls. And it is not possible that those who 
hope for heaven should be indifferent about this matter, or 
feel otherwise than that to know those we cherish in this life 
w^ould be a source of inconceivable bliss. With w^hat emo- 
tions do we look forward to those interviews which we ex- 
pect to have with our departed when we reach our long- 
sought rest ! Behold that mother lingering about those little 
graves ; does not her soul glow and swell with a holy rapture 
as she looks forward to the period when she shall be ushered 
into the sanctities of heaven, and recognize and embrace 



FUTURE RECOGNITIOX. 335 

those to whom she gave existence ? And would it not be a 
painful reflection were the conviction forced upon the mind 
of the child, who lost a beloved parent at a period too early 
in its history to have any recollection of form or feature, that 
it could never know that parent in heaven ? Is it not much 
more in conformity with the dictates of reason, and in 
harmony with our feelings, to believe that we shall know our 
sainted friends amid the multitude of glorified spirits ? 

Another consideration worthy of notice is, that the inspired 
writers represent heaven under such emblems as to render 
the inference of future recognition perfectly legitimate. It is 
called a kingdom and a commonwealth ; and the inhabitants 
are spoken of as citizens. ''Now are ye no more strangers 
and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints." As 
subjects of the same government, and participating in all the 
immunhies and honors of a state, it would seem strange that 
they should not know each other. Heaven is, moreover, 
represented under the emblem of a family. God, the father, 
is at the head of this family. Speaking of those who have 
entered into reconciliation with heaven, the Apostle says : 
'' For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear ; 
but ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, 
Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth witness with our 
spirit that we are the children of God ; and if children, then 
heirs ; heirs of God, and joint heirs with Jesus Christ; if so 
be that we suffer with him, that we may also be glorified 
together." And as this family is composed of all the sancti- 
fied in heaven and on earth, we could not reject the doctrine 



336 FUTURE KECOGNITION. 

of recognition without doing violence to all conceptions of, 
and associations with, the family relation. Members of the 
same family must surely know each other. 

Another proof of this doctrine may be drawn from the 
general sentiments of mankind. So far as it is possible to 
ascertain the views of*the ancients on this subject, they all 
harmonize on this point. It is universally admitted to be 
true by all those writers who have recorded their opinions. 
Grecian and Roman poets, who described the invisible or 
spirit world, uniformly represent their heroes and other 
characters as recognizing each other when they met. And 
Milton and Shakspeare give utterance to similar sentiments. 
It is, therefore, just to infer that a doctrine which is so gener- 
ally received must be true. And it is only upon the best 
established evidence to the contrary that we should be willing 
to reject a sentiment, the truthfulness of which has been held 
by so many different nations for thousands of years. For it 
is not probable that a merciful God would allow so many 
generations, differing so widely on many other subjects, and 
yet agreeing on this, to be in error for so long a period. 
And could we now gather the views of the thoughtful and 
intelligent men of the present generation, they would, doubt- 
less, be in harmony with the belief of the ancients. The 
most eminent theologians, in the different periods of the 
church's history, have left us their testimony in favor of 
future recognition. These opinions might easily be advanced 
here ; but as there is so little, if any, difference in the 
manner in which they have expressed themselves, it may be 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. 337 

sufficient to state that Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, and so 
far as we know, all the Reformers fully believed that we shall 
know each other in heaven. 

But it is possible to plant this doctrine upon a still firmer 
basis, by a direct appeal to Scripture. In the parable of the 
rich man and Lazarus, we have the sanction of the Lord 
Jesus to this doctrine. That thrilling history, or parable, was 
drawn by one to whom all things were known, and who 
never spoke at random. The spiritual world with all its 
mysteries was laid open to Him, and He was cognizant of 
every thing which transpired in the invisible state, so that He 
could speak with accuracy on any subject which He might 
wish to unfold to the minds of his hearers. We are distinctly 
told that there was a recognition of Abraham and Lazarus 
on the part of the rich man. " He lifted up his eyes, being 
in torment, and saw Abraham afar off and Lazarus in his 
bosom." In whatever light we regard that portion of scrip- 
ture, it manifestly carries with it the Divine sanction of this 
doctrine. And not only did he know Lazarus, who once 
lay neglected at his gate, but he begs that one of the dead 
might be sent to warn his five brethren, that they might not 
come to the same place of torment ; and if the departed did 
not know each other, why should he have dreaded the 
presence of his brethren, who might reproach him for his 
impiety and his influence upon them, for it cannot be sup- 
posed that in hell there is any natural affection. And if it 
was possible for the rich man to know Lazarus and Abraham, 
must it not be so with all. The Saviour, when he speaks to 
29 



388 FUTURE RECOGNITION. 

the Jews of the consequences of their rejection of Him as 
their Messiah, says, '' Ye shall see Abraham and all the 
prophets in the kingdom of God, and you yourselves shut out." 
There are also certain statements in the gospel of John, which 
look to this subject. In those last few chapters, which 01s- 
hausen calls the Holy of Holies, in the gospel history, we find 
the Redeemer unfolding the deeper mysteries of religion, and 
lifting the veil which hides the invisible world, so as to afford 
believers glimpses of their exalted and glorified state. He 
speaks particularly and affectionately of the relation that He 
sustains to the Father, and the Father to Him, and the union 
which exists between himself and his disciples. " Yet a little 
while and the world seeth me no more ; but ye shall see me, 
because I live ye shall live also," " Father, I will that those 
whom, thou hast given me may be with me, that where I am 
they may be also and behold my glory." In these utterances 
of our Lord, He encourages the belief that the most intimate 
social relations will exist between Him and His saints. And 
when He appeared to His disciples immediately after His 
resurrection from the dead, they knew him. And there can 
be no doubt as to the views of the apostles on this subject. 
Paul writing to the Thessalonians, says, '^ What is our hope, 
our joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the 
presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming ? For ye are 
our glory and joy." The apostle, here, evidently means that 
he shall know those at the judgment of Christ, who were 
converted to Christianity through his instrumentality. And 
not only would he know them in the last great day, but he 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. 339 

would rejoice over them, as persons saved from the guilt and 
condemnation of sin through his labors. 

The apostle John, in the Apocalypse, holds out the same 
idea. In his visions are represented those who had passed 
through fiery persecutions and the tribulations of martyrdom, 
and stood before the throne of God. " After this I beheld, 
and lo! a great multitude which no man could number, of all 
nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before 
the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes and 
palms in their hands ; And cried with a loud voice, saying, 
Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto 
the Lamb. And all the angels stood round about the throne, 
and about the elders, and the four beasts, and fell before the 
throne on their faces, and worshipped God, Saying, Amen: 
Blessing, and glory, and honor, and wisdom, and thanks- 
giving, and power, and might, be unto our God forever and 
ever. Amen." 

Here the apostle saw those multitudes who had reached, or 
should reach, heaven ; and still bearing those peculiarities 
which enabled him to distinguish between the different nations 
who were represented before the throne of God. And not only 
is that distinction retained by the kindreds and tongues, but 
their appearance must have been different from that of the 
angels, or else he could not have spoken of the latter as a 
distinct class. Now if all personal and national identity be 
destroyed, and all those marks obliterated whereby we know 
one person and one nation from another on earth, the 
moment the redeemed enter their future home, how could 



340 FUTURE RECOGNITION. 

the apostle have known that that multitude was composed of 
the various kindreds and tongues of earth? And if the 
glorified saints do not lose their national identity, is not the 
inference a legitimate one, that they will also retain their 
personal identity? And would not the loss of those various 
aspects of human form and appearance which are peculiar to 
individuals on earth, and the throwing the society of heaven 
into one uniform mass, divest that abode of that order and 
beauty which the scriptures ascribe to the heavenly world ? 
It would do violence to all our feelings and hopes, while the 
rejection of the doctrine would strip our future home of some 
of its brightest attractions, and fill us with regrets at least all 
through our earthly pilgrimage. 

But it appears, also, from some intimations of Scripture, 
that angels know each other. Gabriel, when assigning a 
reason for the delay occasioned on his niission to the prophet, 
ascribes it to certain hindrances which he experienced on his 
way. '' Fear not, Daniel," he says, '' for from the first day 
thou didst set thyself to understand and to chasten thyself 
before God, thy words were heard, and I am come for thy 
words. But the prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood 
me one and twenty days; but lo! Michael, one of the chief 
princes, came to help me." From this it would appear that 
angels know each other; and if so, may we not safely con- 
clude that a like privilege awaits^he children of God ? 

But we have still more positive grounds upon which to 
base our argument. We are assured by the Evangelist who 
describes the transfiguration of Christ on Mount Hermon, 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. 341 

"that Moses and Elias were present, and communed with 
Jesus concerning the work of redemption which was 
approaching its completion." And while the disciples w^ere 
overwhelmed with the resplendent glory which shone upon 
that Mount, Peter exclaimed, " Lord, it is good for us to be 
here. Let us build three tabernacles ; one for thee, one for 
Moses, and one for EKas." From this language it appears 
that the disciples knew Moses and EHas, although they had 
never seen them on earth. And does not the fact afford 
indubitable proof that saints shall know each other intuitively ? 
The presumption is certainly very strong, that if Peter, James, 
and John, knew the great lawgiver of the Jews, and him who 
stood at the head of the prophetic school, though they had 
lived some thousand years before, and now appeared in their 
glorified natures, that the saints will immediately recognize 
each other upon their entrance into heaven. We might 
adduce additional inferential proof from Scripture in support 
of future recognition, but perhaps none which bears more 
pointedly upon the doctrine ; and we think that this is 
amply sufficient to establish the fact, if w^e do not demand 
demonstrative proof where moral certainty is all that ought 
to be expected. 

But there is yet another source from which w^e may obtain 
some light on this subject. I mean the declarations of 
departing souls. Many incidents might be adduced, w^hich 
ought to confirm us in the beHef that v/e shall know each 
other in the spirit- world. It may be alleged, how^ever, that 
the mind is in a wild and delirious state for hours previous, 
29* 



342 FUTURE RECOGNITION. 

as well as during the dissolution of soul and body ; and that 
those forms which the dying profess to see are nothing more 
than images of beauty, which are the offspring of an excited 
imagination, and therefore prove nothing. But while we are 
prepared to admit the force of this assertion in some instances, 
it w^ould be unjust to ascribe all such manifestations or visions 
of the departing to the same cause. Where there is no 
undue excitement of the brain, and no extraordinary nervous 
sensibility, but w^here the conversation and appearance of the 
individual are collected and cool, and where to the very last 
moment all the indications assure us that reason is neither 
clouded nor driven from its throne, we are bound to exercise 
some confidence in the truth of their dying declarations. 
Take, for example, the martyr Stephen. He was in perfect 
health, and, therefore, free from the exhilarating influence of 
disease or medicine; ''but he, being filled w^ith the Holy 
Ghost, looked steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of 
God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God." He 
could not have been mistaken about what he saw, for he was 
speaking under the influence of inspiration, and, therefore, 
could not err. Beside this case from Scripture history, w^e 
might adduce others where the dying spoke of the presence 
of angels and sainted friends. I have heard with my own 
ears many glorious declarations from dying Christians of 
what they felt and saw. A beloved sister, when passing into 
the valley of the shadow of death, commenced uttering w-hat 
she felt, and describing w'hat she saw, until the glory of the 
invisible world seemed so fully present to her soul, that she was 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. 343 

overwhelmed and lost in wonder, and said, '^ ! I cannot 
tell you all ; but you will see it !" and as the words " beauti- 
ful, beautiful," trembled on her lips, she expired. Another 
whom I attended in his last hours, but who w^as a wacked 
man, carried on a rapid and protracted conversation with 
what seemed to be evil spirits, until suddenly stopping, he 
said distinctly,'' We wull now adjourn until one o'clock, and 
then w^e wall rally all our forces against the great throne ;" 
and precisely at the designated hour he breathed his last. 

But a highly interesting case is mentioned by a gentleman 
in one of our religious papers, which is yet more to the 
point. "A little girl," he writes, "in a family of my 
acquaintance, a lovely and precious child, lost her mother at 
an age too early to fix the loved features in her remembrance. 
She was as frail as beautiful ; and as the bud of her heart 
unfolded, it seemed as if, won by that mother's prayers, to 
turn instinctively heavenward. She w^as the idol of the 
family ; but she faded away early. She would lie upon the 
lap of the friend who bestow^ed a mother's care upon her, 
and winding one w^asted arm about her neck, would say, 
'Now tell me about my mamma.' And when the oft- 
repeated tale w^as told, she would say softly, ' Take me into 
the parlor, I want to see my mamma.' The request was 
never refused, and the aflfectionate child would lie for hours 
contentedly gazing on her mother's portrait. But — 

** Pale and wan she grew, and weakly, 
Bearing all her pains so meekly. 
That to them she still grew dearer, 
As the trial-hour drew nearer." 



344 FUTURE RECOGNITION. 

"That hour came at last, and the weeping friends assembled 
to see the little child die. The dew of death was already on 
the flower as its life's sun was going down. The little chest 
heaved spasmodically. ' Do you know me, darling ? ' 
sobbed the voice that was dearest ; but it awoke no answer. 
All at once a brightness, as if from the upper world, burst 
over the child's colorless features. The eyelids flashed 
open, the lips parted, the w^an, cuddling hands flew in the 
little one's last impulsive effort, as she looked piercingly into 
the far-above. 'Mother!' she cried with surprise and tran- 
sport, and past with that breath to her mother's bosom." 
Who that has witnessed such instances can, for a moment^ 
doubt the doctrine of future recognition. 

Other instances might be cited, but I will rest this doctrine 
upon the testimony of each one's consciousness. Out of the 
holy depths of our nature we may hear a voice say to us, 
'^we shall know each other in heaven." God has given 
certain voices to our spiritual being ; and whenever these are 
heard in favor of any subject which is clothed with an air of 
mystery or obscurity, we have reason to believe that the 
utterances are true. The yearnings of our nature, and the 
perfection of our happiness, assuredly require a recognition 
of those whom we loved on earth, and in whom w^ere our 
richest springs of earthly joy. Blessed be God that we have 
ground to believe and reason to hope that we shall see our 
sainted friends, and know them ''even as we are known." 
And what an influence should this doctrine exert upon the 
mind of the Christian? It should inspire him with a holy 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. 345 

watchfulness over his own heart, that he may not come short 
of that '' rest which remaineth to the people of God." 

It is a sore trial to endure a separation for a few years ; but 
who could endure the thought of being eternally exiled from 
their home in heaven ? The prospect of reunion with his 
beloved, should constrain him to '' lay aside every weight and 
the sin which doth so easily beset him, and to run with patience 
and dihgence the race that is set before him." And O ! what 
a motive he has to labor for the salvation of his children, 
brothers, sisters, wife, or other dear friends with whom he 
would walk by the river of life. Christian parent, have you 
ever felt that your child might be lost^ Do you see how the 
temptations are multiplying around it, and that there is a 
growing inclination to give way to their urgency ? Do you 
see the silken threads of pride, and the golden cords of plea- 
sure, binding its immortal spirit to the dust? O! fortify its 
heart against those temptations ; hasten to cut those cords 
before they become powerful as the folds of the monster. 
Turn the eyes of those you love, away from these fading 
glories, to that bright inheritance at God's right hand. Turn 
their aspirations to a crown of glory and a garland of life, and 
teach them that the highest honor within reach of mortals, is to 
be a son or a daughter of the Lord Almighty. Beg them to 
become reconciled to God noiv. Speak to them of the horrors 
of a final separation, and the joys of eternal union. And 
carry with you to the closet the weight of their souls' salvation, 
that your utterances and cries may rise bathed with atoning 
blood to the ears of the eternal God, that the arm of Jehovah 



346 FUTURE RECOGNITION. 

may awake to their deliverance from sin. Or if all are 
adopted into God's family, or have already gone to rest, suffer 
the delightful assurance that you shall know and love them 
in heaven, to reconcile you to this temporary separation which 
death induces. But if unconverted and without hope, should 
not this prospect at once lead you to the Saviour's feet, that 
you may be w^ashed and sanctified ? ! what motives are 
addressed to you from yonder world, if you are impenitent! 
Perhaps a beloved child bends from these seats of glory with 
beseeching looks, and would constrain you to turn to God ! 
A dear departed mother may yearn over you with all her 
maternal affection! A father, a husband, a wife, a brother, 
or sister, or friend — ay, perhaps all these, are calling dow^n 
to you, now^, to close in with the overtures of mercy. But I 
will not attempt to urge their pleas ; I will pray God that He 
may plead his own cause and theirs with you. And ! that 
they may descend in the persuasive influences of the Holy 
Spirit, and carry your affections to the skies. And then with 
the Christian you can look forward with joy to that hour 
when you shall join the ransomed host above. And who can 
picture that rapture which will thrill the bosoms of the glori- 
fied throng, as they are joined in everlasting bonds of love. 
To those hills of life we often look, and over those plains of 
light and glory does the eye of our faith fondly w^ander, for 
there are those wliom a mysterious but wise Providence has 
removed from our fold. And to those heights of glory where 
the redeemed now rejoice does our hope carry us, and there 
do w^e expect one day to hear all the voices which once 



FUTURE RECOGNITION. B47 

charmed us on earth, mingling with our's in the great anthem 
of redemption that shall rise and swell and roll in lofty gran- 
deur around the throne of Jehovah forever and ever. 

*< I count the hope no day-dream of the mind, 
No vision fair of transitory hue ; 
The souls of those whom once on earth we knew, 
And loved, and walked with in communion kind. 
Departed hence, again in heaven to find. 
Such hope to Nature's sympathies is true ; 
And such we deem, the Holy Word to view 
Unfolds ; an antidote for grief designed ; 
One drop from comfort's well. 
Nor shall we find 

More joy from aught in that celestial seat. 
Save from God's presence, than again to greet 
Each other's spirits, there to dwell combined 
In brotherhood of love." 



CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. 

THE SYMPATHY OF JESUS WITH AFFLICTED AND 
BEREAVED SOULS. 



" Like the sweet melody "wliicli faintly lingers 
Upon the wind-harp's strings at close of day, 
When gently touch'd by evening's dewy fingers, 
It breathes a low and melancholy lay ; 
So the calm voice of sympathy me seemeth ; 
And while its magic spell is round me cast, 
My spirit in its cloister'd silence dreameth, 
And vaguely blends the future with the past." 



Humanity may justly boast of its sympathy as an excellent 
grace and a priceless jewel. It is that fountain in our nature 
whose streams gladden, refresh, and beautify life. Cheerless, 
indeed, would be our existence, were we doomed to spend 
it among beings who had no fellow-feeling for us ; for it is 
the blending of hearts and the mingling of spirits, that create 
and sustain social happiness. It is even painful, occasionally, 
to meet with one whose sympathies are chilled by a heartless 
selfishness — a man who feels not, and cares not for his com- 
panions in the race of life. For such an one moves within 
the narrow circle which self-love forms, and never passes 
beyond that circumscribed sphere to drop a tear upon some 
desolate hearth, or to utter a word of hope to a desponding 

(348) 



SYMPATHY OF JESUS, ETC. 349 

or heart-broken fellow creature. The sympathies of others 
may distil, like gently descending dews, upon spirits made 
weary ; and weep with those that weep, and rejoice with 
those who rejoice; but he who remains unaffected, like a 
mountain of ice, chills the atmosphere around him. He 
labors and traffics, and schemes and accumulates ; but only 
for himself. He is an object of pity, because destitute of 
those sensibilities and generous impulses which belong to our 
nature, and he is only a man in the outward form. We 
regard him with the same feelings with which we look upon 
a tree scathed and blighted by the lightnings of heaven, 
without leaves or fruit, and even incapable of casting a 
refreshing shadow. We all need sympathy, and should, 
therefore, bestow it upon others. And who has not felt its 
strange power to lighten the burdens of life, and to extract 
the sting from disease, and the bitterness from sorrow. The 
help of man may be vain ; but the sympathy of friends is 
precious. You behold a fellow-traveler oppressed with a 
load, in his estimation too heavy to be borne, and he sinks 
exhausted and faint to the earth ; but a word of encourage- 
ment from you will impart new energy to the weary pilgrim, 
and even a look may inspire him with fortitude to toil on in 
hope. And this may be done without subjecting yourself to 
any inconvenience ; certainly without loss, and always with 
great gain, forasmuch as every act of kindness exerts a recip- 
rocal force upon the agent, and leaves its heavenly impress 
upon him, while it adds a fresh gem to his character. And 
the consciousness of having dispelled gloom, or diminished 
30 



350 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

the woes which were brooding over the spirit of a fellow- 
being, is a rich compensation to those who delight in doing 
good. To administer comfort to the children of sorrow, and 
to utter bright words into the ears of mourners, is like open- 
ing a crevice and letting sun-light into the gloomy dungeon 
where prisoners of misfortune are pining away. The prison- 
ers of Providence are often in darkness ; their faith is feeble, 
and they need to be assured that when all wdthin is dark, the 
Sun of righteousness still shines, and that they need but look, 
and they will behold the healing beams streaming through 
their clouds of calamity ; and that although they despair 
because of the weakness of their confidence in the Divine 
promises, they will gather strength from the assurance that 
Jesus is an Almighty Saviour, that when they are weak, 
He is strong, and that, therefore, the foundation of their hopes 
remains unshaken by that storm which has agitated and over- 
w^helmed their souls. Those w^ho in seasons of trial have 
shared in the sympathies of others, know how precious it is 
to have the bleeding heart bound up by gentle hands, and 
the anguished bosom soothed by those who know from expe- 
rience what it is to pass through the deep waters of affliction. 
The sympathy of such, is like oil to a painful wound. 

*' If there be one tliat o'er thy dead, 
Hath in thy grief borne part ; 
And watch'd through sickness by thy bed, 
Call this a kindred heart." 

But after all has been done for us which sympathising 
friends are capable of accomplishing, they may still leave the 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 351 

wound iinmollified and the heart unhealed ; for although they 
may comfort, they cannot effectually heal. And one design 
which a merciful Father has in sending us bereavements, un- 
questionably, is to convince us that we need a Divine helper. 
I had once planted a few vines, and hard by them erected a 
substantial frame-work upon which they might find a support 
in the storm ; but they clung to each other, and after rising 
a little distance from the earth, they fell to the ground and 
their growth was dwarfish and their fruit rotted, and I said 
to my beloved, Here let us learn a lesson. These vines are 
a picture of ourselves. We foolishly and fondly cling to 
each other, our affections fasten their tendrils upon beings as 
frail and destitute of strength as ourselves, and when calami- 
ties befall us, we sink together in our weakness ; whereas, if 
we lay hold upon the Rock of our strength, and send our 
affections on the wings of ardent prayer and faith to the 
bosom of God, they will twine their tendrils around the 
eternal throne, and we shall stand to show forth His praise, 
when the universe falls. If w^e have erred in placing too 
much dependence upon an arm of flesh, God may have 
withered that arm, that we might lay hold upon His. The 
Lord often dries up the fountains of earthly comfort, that we 
may fly to the streams of living w^ater. He takes away friends, 
that He may cause us to seek the friendship of Him " who 
sticketh closer than a brother." Jesus only is able to afford 
us grace and strength to bear the trials He appoints for us. 
And blessed be God ; He never withholds His consolations 
from the sorrowful who seek them ; nor does He deny shelter 



352 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

to the distressed who fly to His bosom for refuge. And what 
is still more important, He possesses infinite resources, and 
is, therefore, amply qualified to furnish an antidote for all 
distresses ; and where they cannot be removed, He overrules 
them for His glory and our good. He, at whose word as it 
rang through chaos, the universe sprang bright-robed and 
glowing into existence, can call forth light and joy in the 
darkly desolate heart. He who caused the morning stars to 
sing, can wake up songs in the night of our affliction. For 
He need but speak, and it is done ; and whether we can or 
cannot always see the hidden energy which controls the 
tempest, we know who has commanded our peace when 
our troubled breasts find repose. 

The sympathy of Jesus is one of the most pleasing 
attributes of His character. There is much in the person and 
life of our adorable Redeemer w^hich mankind must always 
admire. Indeed, every thing which pertains to His human- 
ity and Divinity is possessed of a loftiness and grandeur 
which inspires admiration. He is unlike man even in His 
human feelings and actions ; or rather, we behold in Him 
humanity sinless and godlike. Viewed as an individual in 
contrast with other distinguished characters, He stands out in 
lonely grandeur, as the Alps among the little hills, or the sun 
in the firmament of stars — massive, spotless, and sublime in 
all His aspects. Like the towering mountain upon which the 
storms of centuries have spent their energies. He stands un- 
shaken, and sends the healthful influences of immortal life 
over our afflicted world. I have stood on the spot where the 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 353 

gifted orator swayed with his eloquence the listening multi- 
tude as the leaf-burdened branches of the forest are swayed 
by the winds of heaven, I have communed with many of the 
distinguished living, and with more of the illustrious dead, 
but when I follow Jesus Christ on His journey, and visit in 
thought the places where He taught, and labored, and 
suffered, and died, I am conscious of the presence of an 
awe-inspiring majesty which I experience nowhere else. In 
no society, and in no place, do I feel as I do in His presence. 
There is none like Jesus. For I see in Him a w^isdom un- 
fathomable, and a power illimitable ; I behold in Him a 
beauty more radiant than that of the flowery landscape, a 
love broader than the earth, a glory more dazzling than the 
glowing heavens, and a sympathy wide and durable as 
eternity. And while some of His attributes, such as omnipo- 
tence, omniscience, and justice, breathe a deep solemnity 
over my soul and fill me with awe. His sympathy draws as 
with gentle chords, and makes me bold to tell Him those 
secret sorrows which I dare not utter in the ears of mortals. 
And if there be none who can be affected with the story of 
our w^oes, ''He can be touched with the feelings of our 
infirmities, having been tempted in all points like as we are." 
"He is the man of sorrows, and acquainted w^ith grief." 
One of the objects of His incarnation, doubtless, was, that 
He might become familiar with all that human nature can 
endure. And having himself been oppressed, and aflBicted, 
and stricken, and smitten, He is able to succor those who are 
tried. Having endured a hotter furnace than He allows any 
30* 



354 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

of His children to enter, He knows full well the degree of 
heat which is adequate to the removal of the dross from the 
gold ; and beyond that point His goodness will not suffer the 
fire to prevail. No language could so fitly describe His 
humiliation and destitution as His own. '^ Foxes have 
holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man 
hath not where to lay his head." When the beasts of the 
forest are hunted and pursued, they can fly to their rocky 
dens and repose in safety ; when the heavens grow dark 
and the storm howls, the fowls of the air fly to their little 
homes and are sheltered ; but 0, amazing thought ! the Lord 
of the universe, whose providence throws its sheltering 
wings over all these creatures, Himself stood as a rock in 
mid-ocean, while all the storms of affliction to w^hich man is 
heir, mingled with the billows of Divine wrath, were break- 
ing over His innocent head. And why did He consent to 
such a distressing humiliation? Why did He, the adorable 
One, move through the deep valleys of earth, and not choose 
its high places as the field of His labors, and as the sphere 
of His beneficence ? He had an object in view, and it was 
this : that however humble, neglected, and tried might be the 
lot of His children. His sympathies might reach them. He 
descended to the lowest depth of suffering that His people 
might feel assured that while the Redeemer's sympathy 
and love fill the highest heights of heaven, they also extend 
their influence to the deepest depths of earth. And now 
there are none so far down in sorrow and distress but He is 
cognizant of their feelings; and the heart which pulsates 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 355 

upon the throne of universal dominion thrills in sympathy 
with their sufferings. Earth has no vales resounding wuth 
notes of anguish and cries of lamentation from those w^ho 
are threading their way through streams of affliction, where 
the voice of Jesus may not also be heard, saying, ''When 
thou goest through the waters I will be with thee, and 
through the rivers they shall not overflow thee." 

We may enjoy the society and counsel of sympathizing 
friends ; but beyond a certain extent their efforts to relieve 
are powerless; but the sympathy of Jesus is joined with a 
power which reaches the farthest w^o, and relieves in every 
time of need. In illustration of this point, let us turn for 
a moment to the history of our Saviour's Hfe. Behold Him 
one morning as in haste He leaves Capernaum with His 
disciples. He presses forward toward Nain without pausing 
a moment by the cool brook to take a refreshing draught, or 
turning into the grove by the wayside to find shelter in its 
grateful shade from a hot summer's sun. He is on an errand 
of mercy. The distress of a widow^ed mother was present 
to His omniscience and awakened His compassion, and He 
hastens to the town where she lived, that He may restore her 
lost treasure. About midday he reaches the city, and is met 
at the gate by the funeral cortege. When He saw the infirm 
and broken mourner following her only son to the grave, His 
sympathies were kindled, and He said to her, ^' Weep not." 
" And he touched the bier, and they that bore him stood still. 
And He said, Young man, I say unto thee, arise. And he 
that was dead sat up and began to speak. And He delivered 



356 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

him to his mother." Here was an exceedingly touching and 
beautiful instance of His sympathy with the bereaved. A 
lonely widow, who was deprived of her only stay and 
support, excited our Lord's compassion, and He exerts His 
omnipotence to bring her relief. He recalled life into that 
inanimate form, and again there was a warm heart to love 
her and to cheer her solitude ; again there were hands to 
procure her bread, and once more there were lips to pro- 
nounce that rapturous word, mother. 

A father comes to our Lord and cries, " My daughter is 
even now dead, but come and lay thy hand upon her, and 
she shall live." Although he is not of the house of Israel, 
Christ does not repel the suppliant, but accompanies the 
ruler to the chamber of death, and there recalls her to life. 
Ah, who can estimate the preciousness of the Saviour's 
sympathy to this ruler? As he was a man in authority, he, 
doubtless, had other friends who pitied him, and who 
mingled their tears with his ; but the sympathy of Jesus was 
associated with a power through which this man was again 
put in possession of his child. 

But the most affecting incident of this description con- 
nected with the history of Jesus is the exhibition of Jlis 
tenderness at the raising of Lazarus. The family of Bethany 
largely shared the friendship of the Saviour. Two sisters 
and one brother composed that family ^^ whom Jesus loved." 
On one occasion, during His absence from the hospitable 
house of these friends, sickness came, and Lazarus was 
prostrated upon a bed of affliction. With fearful hearts did 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 357 

those fond sisters watch around the bed of then' beloved 
brother, and carefully did they note every stage which the 
disease might assume. Now hope would illumine their 
countenances, as his eye brightened and his fever slightly 
abated ; then again, as the symptoms became unfavorable 
would fear cast its shadow upon their brow. 0, how 
anxiously did they long for the Saviour's return. They had 
despatched a messenger for Him, and sufficient time had 
elapsed for Him to reach their abode, but the Lord has 
not yet come, and the brother grows worse. Often did 
they look out in the direction from which they expected Him 
to come, but there was no indication of His approach, and 
again they returned to the bedside, weeping in all the bitter- 
ness of their hearts. The first day has passed, and another, 
and still another, and yet are the watchers alone. Slowly 
yet rapidly does the time roll on ; and as the midnight hour, 
which so often marks the crisis of disease, comes, it brings no 
hope ; nay, it increases their alarm, for he was manifestly 
sinking. Another hour is passed, and the struggles of nature 
with disease are feebler; his tongue ceases to articulate 
responses to their affectionate inquiries, and his eyes grow 
dim, so that he can no longer see Martha and Mary. Gently 
he sinks until the dawn of day; and just when the orb of 
heaven bathed the hills of Palestine with his golden light, 
the sun of Lazarus set in death. And now those sisters are 
overwhelmed with sorrow^, why does the Master not even come 
to comfort them in their distress ? But these sisters did not 
bear their grief alone. Beyond Jordan there was a heart 



358 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

which shared their woes, for Jesus said to His disciples, 
'' Lazarus is dead, let us go to him." They came, but not 
to be present at his burial ; neither did Mary and Martha 
know w^hen the Lord w^ould come. Their brother was laid 
in the sepulchre, and they sat down in sackcloth to lament 
the dead. After the lapse of four days it was announced 
that the Master had come ; and when Mary had approached 
into His presence she fell down at His feet^ saying, '^ Lord, if 
thou hadst been here my brother had not died. When Jesus, 
therefore, saw^ her w^eeping, and the Jews also w'eeping which 
came with her, He groaned in spirit and was troubled, and 
said. Where have ye laid him." 

<' Then the Jews who came 
Following Mary answered through their tears, 

** Lord, come and see !" But lo ! the mighty heart 
That in Gethsemane sweat drops of blood, 
Taking for us the cup that might not pass ; 
The heart whose breaking cord upon the cross 
Made the earth tremble, and the sun afraid 
To look upon his agony — the heart 
Of a lost world's Redeemer — overflowed. 
Touched by a mourner's sorrow! Jesus wept." 

What a sublime lesson do those tears teach the children 
of sorrow ! I have seen the parched earth, when it seemed 
crying to the passing clouds to descend in refreshing showers ; 
and I have looked out upon the face of nature after those 
dark chariots of heaven had wept themselves empty upon the 
thirsty plain, and the whole earth looked up reflecting from 
her tears her grateful smiles back to Him who '' prepareth the 
rain." And so have I seen desolate and weary souls con- 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 859 

suming and wasting away under the slow fires of grief, until 
the dews of a Saviour's sympathy descended upon them and 
clothed them w^ith the graces of submission and resignation, 
and in whispers such as angels utter, I heard these comforted 
souls breathe the words of Gethsemane — ^^Nevertheless not 
my will, but thine, be done." 

And how often like those two sisters in their grief, do 
Christians feel as though they sorrowed alone, that the Master 
does not pity ! But they knew not that the stroke which 
smote Lazarus with death, was felt by Him beyond Jordan ; 
and so, also, when the cords which bind us to loved ones 
break, their vibrations are heard in heaven, and the weight 
of that blow which prostrates a disciple to the earth and sends 
anguish to our bosoms, is also felt in the heart of Him who is 
seated on the throne of universal empire. And it could not 
be otherwise, for the head must feel when a member of the 
body suffers. He is the vine, w^e are the branches, and no 
affliction can befall the branch, without a draught upon the 
sympathy of the parent stem. This is what the apostle means 
by His being " touched with the feeling of our infirmities. 
And this is what we need in this suffering world; an assu- 
rance of His interest in our trials. For if we are united to 
the Lord Jesus by a living faith, our burdens are partly borne 
by Him. As He once addressed the multitude who were 
groaning under bodily and spiritual burdens, so does He still 
invite the suffering — " Come unto me, all ye that labor and 
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Rest from guilt 
and sin ; rest from all your grief and anguish. Among all 



360 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

the examples recorded in Scripture for our encouragement 
under affliction, there is not one that has not left its testi- 
mony of the gracious aid and unfailing support which the 
Lord grants his children in their day of trial. When Job 
was visited with the most distressing calamities, and suddenly 
deprived of his property, his children, and his health, he 
could still bless God. And although he did pass through a 
fiery ordeal, God so overruled his afflictions that they issued 
in an increase and enlargement of temporal and spiritual 
blessings. 

We have a beautiful exhibition of the sympathy of Jesus, 
in those charming discourses w^hich He addressed to His 
disciples, shortly before His crucifixion. When He saw the 
effect w^hich the announcement of His suffering and separa- 
tion from them had produced. He strove to comfort them, 
and to dispel their sadness by words of hope. '^Let not 
your hearts be troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in 
me. In my father's house are many mansions ; if it were not 
so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." 
He was not insensible to their sorrows, and, therefore, con- 
soles them, and tries to reconcile them to a brief separation 
by pointing to those glorious mansions on high, where they 
should enjoy His presence and society forever. And what 
language of tenderness flowed from His lips when He spoke 
to those who were afflicted to tears by beholding His suffer- 
ings ! While under the painful pressure of that cross which 
He was bearing onward to Calvary, He looked around and 
saw the women weeping as they followed ; and unmindful 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 361 

of His own anguish, he kindly said, " Daughters of Jerusalem 
weep not for me." And in the last hour of His indescribable 
and excruciating sufferings, His sympathy for His mother 
was manifested in those memorable words addressed to her 
and the beloved disciple — " Woman, behold thy son ; son, 
behold thy mother." And when His death had fallen with 
stunning power upon His disciples and friends. He lost no 
time after He arose, to bring them words of comfort. And 
first of all, to His mother. When Mary had come to the tomb 
and found it empty, she turned aside and stood weeping 
until addressed, as she supposed, by the gardener ; she asked, 
Where have ye laid Him ? And Jesus said unto her, '' Mary." 
That voice and that word breathed a heaven of glory into her 
soul, and in an instant she was at His feet. " Jesus saith unto 
her. Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father; 
but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my 
Father and your Father, and to my God and your God." 
And to the two disciples, who journeyed to Emmaus to 
relieve their hearts from a painful oppression and gloom, and 
who were sad as they communed with each other of the 
strange event which had blighted their hopes, He drew near 
and joined in their conversation, and unfolded to them the 
scriptures, until their hearts warmed within them under the 
gracious revelations which He poured upon their minds ; and 
at last He made Himself known, in the breaking of bread. 
Filled with joy, they hasten back to announce the glorious 
news to the other disciples, and while they were yet speaking, 
*' Jesus stood in their midst, and said, peace be with you." 
31 



862 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

Had the heavens suddenly opened and let down upon them 
the glory of the upper sanctuary, .they could not have been 
filled with greater joy. Jesus was with them, and it was 
enough. And ever since that memorable period, there has 
been no chamber of sorrow where His followers wept ; but 
Jesus appeared to sympathize and to comfort. Not, indeed, 
in a visible form ; but by His word and Spirit, and with the 
energy and power of His grace. Behold that mother who is 
watching over her last loved one on earth, experiencing all 
those dreadful pangs which rend a loving heart : when the 
only remaining earthly cord which binds her to this life is 
breaking, she looks upon the sufferer and then to the throne 
of Christ, and in full assurance of faith she cries — ! Jesus, 
I give him to thee ! And thus bereft of every earthly friend, 
there is present to her an invisible Comforter, who, as she 
looks forward wdth trembling on that journey which she must 
tread alone, says to her soul — '' Lo ! I am with you always, 
even unto the end." 

That the Redeemer sympathizes with His people in their 
afflictions and bereavements, and will afford them relief, is 
further manifest from the multitude of encouraging promises 
which He has left us. " He will not quench the smoking flax 
nor break the bruised reed." The prophet Isaiah, the notes 
of whose prophetic harp w'ere never so eloquent and sublime 
as when he sang our Saviour's character and mission, 
exclaims, in one of his descriptions of the God-Man, '' And 
a man shall be as a hiding-place from the wind, and a covert 
from the tempest, as rivers of \vater in a dry place, as the 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 363 

shadow of a great rock in a weary land."" And again he 
represents Him as commissioned " to bind up the broken- 
hearted, to comfort the mourner, to give beauty for ashes, the 
oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the 
spirit of heaviness." 

When David was hunted like a bird, and found refuge in 
the cave of Adulam, beyond the reach of his enemies, he 
still felt the importance of enjoying the sympathy and protec- 
tion of the Messiah, as he said, " When my heart is over- 
whelmed within me, I will cry from the ends of the earth, 
lead me to the Rock that is higher than L" And having been 
led to that refuge for sinners, he sang, " Thou art ray rock 
and my fortress, my deliverer, my God, my strength in whom 
I will trust ; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and 
my high tower." And during a severe affliction and depres- 
sion of spirit, he exclaims, "All thy waves and thy billows 
have gone over me. Yet the Lord will command his loving 
kindness in the day-time, and in the night his song shall be 
with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. ^Vhy art 
thou cast down, my soul? And why art thou disquieted 
in me ? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him who is 
the health of my countenance and my God." Amid the 
discouragements and fierce conflicts to w^hich Luther, the 
great Reformer, was subjected, his soul always found comfort 
in singing the forty-sixth Psalm : " God was his refuge and 
strength, and a very present help in time of trouble. There- 
fore would not he fear, though the earth were removed, and 
the mountains were cast into the midst of the sea." However 



/ 
364 SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

weary and faint with the burdens of Hfe, he could drink from 
those exhaustless streams fed by the river of Divine love 
which make glad the city of (lod. And thus, also, may 
every believer refresh his soul in times of distress. He can 
go directly to the Saviour for sympathy and aid. He can say. 
Here, Lord, are Thy promises uttered by Thy Prophets, by 
Thee, and Thine Apostles. Thou hast told us to cast " our 
burdens upon thee, that thou raayest sustain us.'' Thou hast 
given Thy Gospel that we might have peace. Thou hast said, 
'' in the world ye shall have tribulation ; but be of good 
cheer, I have overcome the world." And Thy servants 
have exhorted us "to cast all our cares upon thee." If we 
urge His own promises with an humble and believing heart, 
He will answer our prayers in their fulfilment. 

Such was the experience of the primitive disciples, and 
hence Paul writes to the Corinthians — 'Tor as the suffer- 
ings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth 
by Christ." From this declaration we perceive that the 
sympathy of Jesus is associated with actual consolation, 
w^hich sustains those who are united with Christ. According 
to the views of Billroth, Winer, and others, the sorrows 
endured by Christ repeat themselves in the believer; and 
likewise the comfort and the glorification experienced by the 
Redeemer. And this same apostle still farther magnifies the 
consolation with which Jesus sustains His followers, when he 
writes — " We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; 
we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but" not 
forsaken ; cast down, but not destroyed." A multitude of 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 365 

illustrious examples might be cited, to show how cheerfully 
and triumphantly the Lord carries His people through the 
most formidable tribulations. When two of His ambassadors 
were cast into a foul prison, wounded and bruised, such was 
the sustaining power which He imparted, and such the joy and 
consolation with which He filled their hearts, that at midnight 
they made their dungeon resound with songs of praise. 
Martyrs and confessors who were in sympathy with Jesus, 
were so mightily strengthened in the inner man, that they 
could not only bear the flame, but were in raptures while 
their bodies were consumed by the slow fires of martyrdom. 
And all that cloud of witnesses, so eloquently described in 
Hebrews, who also encompass us, still assure us that the 
love, sympathy, and power of Jesus are all enlisted in the 
cause of His suffering people. 

The presence and sympathy of the great Redeemer, there- 
fore, constitute a rich legacy, to which His followers may at 
all times lay claim. And the excellence and importance of 
this legacy it is impossible to estimate. He is our elder 
brother, and has, therefore, a fellow-feeling for us. And 
while this sympathy is high as heaven and ample as immen- 
sity, it also possesses this advantage, that the blessings which 
flow from it are exhaustless. There are fountains on earth, 
which send forth copious and clear streams ; but the season 
of drought comes, and when nature has most need of such 
supplies, they flow no more. And thus, also, from the sources 
of earthly pleasure and human comfort, there may issue 
refreshing waters in time of abundance and health, but all 
31* 



36G SYMPATHY OF JESUS 

these are cut off or exhausted in the hour of bereave- 
ment and death. It is not so with the sympathy of Jesus ; 
coming from the infinite and unfathomable depths of His 
nature, it will flow on when our desolation is greatest — when 
our souls are " in a dry and thirsty land, where no w^ater is," 
this stream continues to gladden and refresh our weary spirits. 
It is not affected by those changes which dry up the springs 
of temporal enjoyments, only that its blessedness is better 
appreciated, and its influences ai-e multiplied. It is this 
sympathy of Jesus which gives us the joy of security and the 
triumph of victory. It vras in view of the conscious union 
of the believer, w^ith Christ, that the Apostle breaks forth in 
the language of triumph, as he looked to the cross, the tomb, 
and the throne of the Redeemer, and exultingly asks, '' If 
God be for us, who (or what) can be against us? He that 
spared not His own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how 
shall he not also with him freely give us all things ? Who is 
He that condemneth ? It is Christ that died, yea, rather that 
is risen again, w^ho is even at the right hand of God, who also 
maketh intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the 
love of Christ ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, 
or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? As it is WTitten, 
for thy sake are w^e killed all the day long ; w^e are accounted 
as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in . all these things w^e are 
more than conquerors, through Him that loved us. For 
I am persuaded that neither life, nor death, nor angels, 
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things 
to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, 



WITH BEREAVED SOULS. 367 

shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord." What a grandeur is here thrown 
around the Christian ! He is elevated above and beyond 
himself. He triumphs not in himself, but in Christ. All 
afflictions, and all manner of evils are trodden under his feet. 
The love and sympathy of Jesus, raise him to the exalted 
position of a partaker of the Redeemer's glory, so that he can 
stand by the throne of the great Mediatorial King, and look 
out upon the universe and claim all the resources of God's 
dominion for his defence and protection. He can lay hold 
of the arm of Omnipotence, and draw round about him the 
energies of Jehovah as his bulwark, and shout in the midst 
of this impregnable enclosure where no evil can reach him, 
and where the love of Jesus fills his soul unutterably full of 
glory. ! ye bereaved, tried, and disconsolate ones, hasten 
to this refuge ! Come to this sacred and safe retreat ; for 
here are the green pastures, here is the fountain of living 
waters flowing fresh, free, full, and glorious, while God cries 
to a weary world — '' Ho ! every one that is athirst, come ye 
to the waters of life." 



CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. 



OUR PRESENT AND OUR FUTURE HOME. 



*• There is a spot of earth supremely blest, 
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, 
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside 
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride ; 
While in his softened look benignly blend 
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. 
Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife. 
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life ; 
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye. 
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; 
Around her knees domestic duties meet, 
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. 
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found 
Art thou a man ? a patriot ? look around ; 
0, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam. 
That land thy country, and that spot thy home." 



The word home has a singular charm and an unutterable 
power. It is a mysterious combination of hidden forces and 
dehghtful associations ; so that, whenever it is uttered, our 
heart-strings vibrate their sweetest melodies. For helpless 
infancy and enfeebled age, for rich and poor, for the humble 
and exalted, it has an energy and beauty which no other 

(368) 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 369 

word possesses. It brings before the mind the place where 
human spirits blend most intimately, and where they share 
each other's joys and woes. Home ! who loves it not ? The 
exiled prince sighs not more for his palace than the banished 
peasant for his hut. In whatever clime we journey, whether 
in the frozen north or sunny south, under the soft sky of Italy 
or among the mountains of Switzerland, in the populous cities 
or the dreary desert, almost every object which w^e behold 
will wake remembrances w^hich will cause our hearts to turn 
instinctively to that beloved spot where we have made our 
abode. And yet, amid all the elevating and joyous influences 
of our earthly homes, there is a restlessness of spirit which 
leaves the conviction upon the mind that there is another and 
a better home. The aspirations of the soul rise above and 
beyond all earthly associations and institutions. Every thing 
around us reminds us that we have here no abiding city ; that 
we are strangers and pilgrims on earth, and must, therefore, 
occasionally realize that we are destined for a higher sphere. 
The spirit of man seems, moreover, conscious of its origin, 
and longs and pants for its home in the skies. It is from 
the assurances of the Holy Word that heaven will be the 
Christian's eternal home, that we draw our greatest comfort 
when we are called to part with friends on earth. Those 
who fall asleep in Jesus are at once taken to that blessed 
abode which God has provided for His saints ; and seeing 
that our present existence is rapidly running to its close, we 
look forward with joy to that hour when we shall meet our 
sainted friends in the mansions of our Father's house. And the 



370 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

more we may be able to lix our affections on that blessed 
abode, the better shall we be able to endure earthly trials and 
bereavements. Among the primitive Christians death was 
spoken of as a sleep ; and when one of their number died, 
it was said he has fallen asleep. When the Moravian 
brethren announce the death of a friend, they say he has 
gone home. And does it not take from death its bitterness 
and terror when it is regarded as a transition into the joys of 
eternal life ? It assuredly moderates and soothes our grief 
when we look upon our departing as going home. In view 
of the quieting and soothing influences which heavenly medi- 
tations, in connection with other considerations, breathe 
upon the troubled soul, I feel as though I could not more 
fittingly close these consolatory lessons than by directing the 
reader's attention to the Christian's future home. 

That there is such a place as heaven, and that it is the home 
of the redeemed, is susceptible of the clearest demonstration. 
Admitting that there is a future state of existence for that 
mixed multitude of souls which now people the earth, reason 
would suggest the propriety of a place exclusively con- 
secrated to the holy. Here they are annoyed and wearied 
by the corruptions and pollutions of this sinful world, and it 
is but just that those who faithfully serve God, and wage a 
continual warfare against sin, should at last find an abode 
where they shall be secure against its aggressions upon their 
peace. And the Scriptures so abundantly and clearly aflBrm 
that there is a blessed home for the righteous, and a rest for 
the people of God ; and the yearnings and convictions of all 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 871 

men so fully coincide with the teachings of revelation on this 
subject ; that an array of elaborate proof would be superflu- 
ous. Granting, then, that there is no question as to the fact 
of its existence, the first inquiry which demands our attention 
is that w^hich relates to the locality of our future home. 
Where has God established the residence of His people ? 
Of this we cannot speak w'ith absolute certainty ; yet is the 
opinion universal that it is above us. It may, however, 
be said, and that with truth, that such expressions are 
indefinite, for the obvious reason that that which is above 
us now will be beneath us twelve hours hence, on account 
of the earth's motion. But that it lies, however, beyond the 
starry firmament is justly inferable from the manner in which 
the Bible speaks of it, and also from the language of our 
Lord and His apostles. The Word of God speaks of three 
heavens. First, the atmosphere ; as when Jesus directs 
attention to the sleepless care of Providence over the fowls 
of the air, which neither sow nor reap, but are cared for and 
fed by the hand of God. And also in other places in the 
Scriptures do w^e read of " the fowls of heaven," and " cities 
walled up to heaven ;" in all such phrases nothing more 
is meant than the air. The second meaning of the term is 
applied to the firmament, or the "sidereal heavens." 
"When I consider the heavens the work of thy fingers, the 
moon and the stars which thou hast ordained." And lastly, 
we have the imperial heaven, the glorious residence of God 
and His holy ones; or, as it is sometimes called, "the third 
heaven ;" — the place to w^hich Paul was elevated during his 



372 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

trance, and where he heard and saw things which .it was not 
lawful to utter. This classification, or division, originated 
with the Jews ; and hence the different significations of the 
term, when applied to different objects, were understood by 
them. The Apostle, in one of his epistles, says that Jesus 
ascended above " all heavens ;" and by that he certainly 
meant, and was doubtless understood to say, that Christ rose 
beyond the starry firmament to the abode of Deity. And it 
Avould also seem to be in harmony with our conceptions of 
the fitness of things, to suppose, that heaven is the central 
point of the universe of God. I do not know that w^e have 
any clear intimations in Scripture w^hich would justify this 
supposition ; but it is absolutely certain that there is nothing 
in the Word of God which stands opposed to this opinion. 

If we are allow^ed to reason from analogy on a subject like 
this, w^e might make out more than a plausible or probable 
proof. If w^e examine any thing that is systematically 
arranged, w^e shall discover that it contains some controlling 
principle or power, which governs the entire structure ; so 
that every system has a central point to w'hich all that forms 
a part of it tends. It is to the centre of the earth that all 
things within the range of our atmosphere gravitate. And in 
like manner, all the planetary systems have their central 
suns, around W'hich they perform their revolutions. A similar 
principle is recognized in law^, in philosophy, and in religion. 
The great system of Christianity acknowledges its author as 
its central and vitalizing power, from w'hom all its excellence 
and eflficiency proceed. And thus, also, do we observe a 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 373 

like arrangement in those two great moral divisions of intelli- 
gent beings in the universe. Each of these two classes has 
a point of confluence, or a gathering-place of their appropriate 
elements and influences. Heaven is the point to which all 
holy beings tend ; the congregating place of the just from all 
nations, and kindreds, and tongues. And it is just as 
certain that all who have upon them the insignia of the king- 
dom of darkness, and are marked by the tokens of perdition, 
are tending to hell, as the central point of unmixed and un- 
mitigated evil. And if this is a divinely ordained principle, 
which controls every where, and whose potency is acknowl- 
edged in all things ; may w^e not reasonably infer that the 
same order is observed in those things which lie beyond the 
range of reason, and are matters of conjecture, or faith ? And 
if so, is it not a warrantable conclusion, that God, whose 
controlling energy fills the universe, has chosen the centre of 
His vast dominions as His own appropriate residence, where 
He will perpetually reside with all His saints ? The opinion 
certainly commends itself to our judgment, and also falls m 
with the gorgeous imagery of Scripture, which throws an 
ineffable splendor around the abode of the righteous. But 
if we are left to conjecture, in regard to the particular location 
of that ''house of many mansions," prepared for the re- 
deemed, we are not left in doubt as to the nature and 
employments of the place. 

And here I would remark, that w^e have abundant reason 
to believe, from the many declarations of Scripture as to the 
appearance and structure of the place, that it is invested with 
32 



B74 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

a lofty physical grandeur. Admitting that it is a place, and 
keeping in view the object for which it was provided, and 
the resources and skill of the Architect of the structure ; we 
would naturally conceive it to be possessed of exalted ex- 
cellence. The monarch who wields the sceptre of earthly 
empire, does not make his largest expenditures upon the 
improvement of his provinces and cities farthest from the seat 
of royalty ; on the contrary, the style and structure of his 
palace, and the adornments of the imperial city, will share 
more largely in his munificence than any other portions of 
his dominions. The place where the powers of government 
reside, and the interests of state are shaped, is generally made 
attractive, and in most instances honored with higher decora- 
tions than any other. And is it not our privilege to believe 
that the home which the Ruler of the universe has fitted up 
for His children, will be clothed with a more excellent glory 
than any other part of His dominions? Such an inference is 
not more natural than we believe it to be just ; for the 
imagery which Inspiration employs to represent heaven, is 
always of a glowing character. Our Saviour himself speaks 
of it under the idea of a vast structure containing many 
apartments. '' In my Father's house are many mansions , 
if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a 
place for you." And if He who fashioned the heavens and 
the earth, has fitted up that abode, w^ill it not correspond with 
the character of His other works? And are not all His 
creations beautiful ? There is a beauty in the winged cloud 
and in the circling wave! There is a beauty in the setting 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 375 

sun, and in the dawn of day ! There is beauty in the warb- 
ling streamlet and its spotted tribes! There is beauty in the 
forest, in the field, in the dew-drop, and in the ocean ! Look 
out upon the earth, and see ! Is it not beautiful, though it 
rests under the curse ? With what a ravishing glory does it 
roll forth to our view, clothed in that rich and varied robe 
which Nature puts on in spring. Behold the mountains and 
continents, rivers and seas, all are arrayed wdth a gran- 
deur that delights and charms the observer. But if the 
glorious Maker of all things has given so many visible dis- 
plays of His poW'Cr and goodness, and clothed wuth giory, 
the sun, the moon, and the stars, and covered the whole 
creation with so many visible beauties, may we not rest 
confidently assured, that the home of His chosen ones is 
invested with a transcendent glory ? His ow^n presence wdll 
make it glorious beyond conception. For while His glory 
gleams from every star, and shines in every sun, and is sung 
in every anthem of nature, all the brightness, goodness, and 
excellence scattered through the universe, are only rays or 
emanations which have gone out from Him, as the infinite 
centre of all that is lovely and glorious. 

The physical glory of the place may also be inferred from 
the names by which it is know^n. Heaven is called the 
Paradise of God. The Eden where Adam and Eve dwelt 
was garnished w^ith a rare excellence. A garden w^atered by 
four rivers, adorned with flow^ers and fountains, and peopled 
with every object that could excite pleasurable emotions; 
and yet w^as it only an emblem of our future home. The 



876 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

apostle John describes the New Jerusalem as a city built of 
the most costly materials. '^ Its foundations were garnished 
with all manner of precious stones, and wath walls of jasper." 
''A city of pure gold, and with gates of solid pearls." 
'' And the glory of the nations was brought into it." ''And 
a river of water clear as crystal flow^ing from the throne of 
God and the Lamb." ''And in the midst of the street 
thereof, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of 
life, w^hich bare tw^elve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit 
every month ; and the leaves thereof were for the healing of 
the nations." " And there shall be no night there ; and they 
need no candle, neither light of the sun ; for the Lord God 
giveth them light, and they shall reign forever and ever." 
And thus, also, in all the other inspired books where heaven 
is spoken of, do we find it represented under the most bril- 
liant emblems. The material creation is laid under contribu- 
tion for images descriptive of the physical grandeur of that 
blessed abode. And who can doubt that the most sublime 
and gorgeous figures will fall short of the reality ? Nay, its 
blessedness and glory will far transcend even the high- 
WTought imagery of Inspiration. For how^ever w^ell-conceived 
and graphic any representation of it may be, the figure is 
but a shadow^, and can never rise to a full conception 
of the object which it is designed to image. Could the 
pencil of Raphael have transferred the living grandeur of 
Niagara ^pon the canvass ? Can any artist paint an evening 
sunset with its appropriate gorgeousness and the mellowing 
beauty of its vanishing glories ? And if not, why should it 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 377 

appear marvellous that the glowing descriptions of heaven 
cannot adequately or fully acquaint us with its actual perfec- 
tions. The skill and resources of Jehovah have been laid 
out upon it. Man has constructed elegant palaces, and 
WTought many attractive things ; but God did not commit the 
preparation of that mansion to man nor angels, but His own 
hand has fashioned it; and, therefore, it is doubtless true 
even of the physical excellencies of the home of the pure 
that " eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard ; neither hath it 
entered into the heart of man to conceive w^hat God hath laid 
up for those who love him." 

But the future home of Christians is also possessed of a 
moral glory. It is an abode of spotless purity. "Nothing 
that defileth can enter wdthin those gates." This holiness 
of heaven is represented under the image of light. Light is 
the only material substance that is altogether pure. Gold is 
not perfectly free from impurities ; and the gems which 
sparkle in the imperial crown are not as pure as the sunbeams 
which they reflect. Light may pass through an impure 
medium, and fall upon the stagnant and foul pool without 
being tarnished. And since it is not only perfectly pure, but 
w^arms and illumines the world, it is used as an image of 
piety and holiness. The most sublime passage, perhaps, 
in Milton, is his apostrophe to light : — 

*' Hail, holy Light ! Offspring of Heaven first-born ! 
Or of the eternal coeternal beam 
May I express thee unblamed ? since God is light, 
And never but in unapproached light. 
Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 
Bright effluence of bright essence increate." 

32* 



878 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

And as the purity and the blessings of light made it a fit 
emblem in the estimation of inspired writers to represent the 
nature and effects of religion, so also for the same reason is 
it appropriately used to describe the purity and fehcity of 
heaven. Hence it is written, '^ And there shall be no night 
there." No physical night, no darkness, shall ever mantle 
the celestial fields; no intellectual night, no errors of judg- 
ment, no fallacious conclusions of the reasoning faculties. 
But above all, there will be no moral night ; no impurity to 
stain the soul, no foul breath to pollute the air, no impure 
foot shall walk the golden streets, and no unholy eye shall 
look upon its glories. But the moral glory of that home is 
heightened, in view of the fact that not only the place but all 
the inhabitants are holy. The adorable Trinity, Father, Son, 
and Holy Ghost, are infinitely and absolutely holy. Isaiah, 
in his vision, ^' saw the Lord sitting upon a throne high and 
lifted up, and his train filled the temple." ^' And above it 
stood the seraphims." ''And one cried unto another, and 
said. Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts ; the whole earth 
is full of his glory." And in the Apocalypse the heavenly 
inhabitants are represented as crying with a loud voice^ say- 
ing, " Holy, holy, holy, art thou, Lord God Almighty ; just 
and true are all thy ways, thou King of saints." And of this 
purity all the dwellers in heaven are partakers. All the 
angels are holy. And as to the saints, they are like Christ ; 
bearing His image, and reflecting His glorious holiness, as 
the planets reflect the light of the sun. '' He is able to 
present you faultless before the presence of his glory with 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 379 

exceeding joy." "Then," saith the Saviour, "shall the 
righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of the 
Father." " They that be wise shall shine as the brightness 
of .the firmament, and as the stars, forever and ever." 
"They shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy." 
" The sufferings of this present time," says the Apostle, " are 
not worthy to be compared to the glory which shall be 
revealed in us." These, and many other passages represent 
to us the holiness of the saints. They are holy as God is 
holy. And what an inconceivable moral splendor must, 
therefore, clothe that heavenly world ! What a dignity and 
glory would cover the earth, were all its inhabitants morally 
pure ! But alas ! it is not so here ; for this world is a moral 
w^aste, with here and there a flower waked into bloom by the 
quickening power of Divine grace. This earth is a land of 
storms and tempests, of tears and woes. Here w-e groan, being 
burdened with many imperfections, and oppressed with many 
trials. One calamity after another sweeps with desolating 
power over those cherished spots where w^e rejoiced in the 
light of earthly prosperity ; and we move about in that circle 
once radiant with joys, and vocal with voices forever hushed 
on earth, and fill it with our lamentations, and water it wdth 
our tears. Here we are continually reminded of the evil of 
sin, and the miseries with which it embitters life. But 
yonder we shall have passed beyond the reach of its influ- 
ence ; for in that home of bliss there is no curse, no sin, no 
sorrow, no death. All are happy, all are glowing with the 
glory of Christ, and all things are flashing wath the holiness 



380 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

of God. Blessed abode of my God ! holy home of my 
beloved ones ! may I one day rejoice in thee, and fill thee 
with my hallelujahs, while I lift my voice in the song of 
Moses and the Lamb. 

It is also a happy and glorious home. There there is 
perfect harmony, and, therefore, perfect peace. No disturb- 
ing element can enter there to conflict with our happiness.^ 
Here we are never secure against those numerous external 
evils and internal corruptions which mar our tranquillity and 
disturb the peace of our souls. But as all those influences 
which agitate and afflict our spirits are caused by sin, and as 
in heaven we shall be perfectly holy, we shall also be 
perfectly happy. And besides the absence of all disturbing 
causes and jarring elements, the saints are also in possession 
of all that can possibly contribute to the enjoyment of a 
rational being. If it is already our privilege to drink so 
largely from the fountains of grace as to fill the soul unutter- 
ably full of joy, how much more will our happiness be aug- 
mented when drinking from the river which flows from the 
midst of the throne of God! Here in this house of our 
pilgrimage we have an occasional drop of refreshing ; but 
there is the ocean of glory ; for it is only beyond the grave 
that we shall enjoy the full flows of eternal happiness. Here 
we have the bud and the blossom, there the fully matured 
clusters. 

But it is also a glorious hotne in view of the society of the 
place, and the relations they sustain to each other. The 
apostles speak of heaven as a house, a city, a commonwealth, 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 881 

or association of believers. '^ For we know that if our earthl;^ 
house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building 
of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
''" Abraham, by faith, sojourned in the land of promise, as in 
a strange land, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, 
the heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked 
for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker 
is God." ''But ye are come unto mount Zion ; and unto 
the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an 
innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and 
the church of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and 
to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of the just made 
perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant." 
Now the grand idea in these and similar passages is, that 
heaven is a great family, and that God, as the Father, 
presides over all ; and thus dwelling and rejoicing together 
forever in each other's society. There will be the full 
and perfect communion of saints. This family embraces 
all the distinguished good from all nations and ages. 
Among them will be found the parents of our race. There 
will be found the Patriarchs ; Moses the lawgiver, and Aaron 
the priest. There wdll the sweet singer of Israel pour forth 
exalted strains of melody, and the lofty Isaiah will utter yet 
sublimer conceptions of the grandeur of Jehovah. Jeremiah, 
Ezekiel, Daniel, and all the prophets will mingle in the 
eternal song, and commune witii us concerning the wonders 
and glories of redemption. And there will we meet the 
innumerable company of martyrs and confessors, those great 



882 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

champions of Christianity " of ^vhom the world was not 
worthy." And there too, shall we join those with whom we 
wept and rejoiced on earth, and with whom we took sweet 
counsel ;-— our parents, our children, companions and friends ; 
and above all we will see Jesus our elder brother, the God- 
Man, arrayed in the vestiture of His ineffable glory. 

And while the great company of redeemed will present 
the same variety in capacity and peculiarity of mind 
which distinguished them from each other on earth, there will 
be a perfect moral likeness. While those of lofty intellectual 
faculties may soar higher in their conceptions, and their 
thoughts sweep a wider range than many around them, they 
will have upon them tlie same moral characteristics which the 
humblest minds possess. All will be completely happy; 
but it will require more of God and of the universe to jSll the 
capacities of a Newton, than those of an African. They may 
also retain their peculiar cast of mind, so that those who have 
the poetic order may pour forth in flowing numbers the 
sublime raptures which the objects around them have kindled 
in their souls, while others of a different mental structure, 
may delight in watching the revolving orbs of light, and 
investigating their physical structure. But under whatever 
phases the intellects of the glorified may appear, they will all 
be conscious of the same moral exercises ; for all are par- 
takers of the spirit of Christ, and instinct with His glorious 
presence. Their feelings, desires, and emotions, are all 
blended in those utterances of praise to which they are 
constantly inclined. And this moral likeness to each other 



PRE.^ENT AND FUTURE HOME. 383 

and to God, and this fusion of souls, will constitute their 
intercourse one of the noblest and most delightful order. This 
oneness of character will inspire each with love for all the 
dwellers in the heavenly Zion, and, therefore, secure that 
mutual aid, which may be required in their progress of know- 
ledge, and in their study of the mysteries of eternity. The 
angels who existed before the worlds were formed, and w^ho 
sang together when the creative energies of Jehovah were 
displayed in the formation of this earth, may unfold to our 
infant minds many things which will fill us wdth admiration 
and joy. 

Among the elements which will enter into our happiness in 
that blessed home, the employments in w^hich we shall engage 
W'ill constitute a large item. To me it has always seemed 
an erroneous supposition that the activities of the saints are 
W^holly taken up in acts of praise and contemplations of 
the perfections of Deity. That these exercises will enter 
largely into their occupations is morally certain ; but that 
they are the only and exclusive employments does not appear 
probable. There are many other methods besides this con- 
templation through which the excellency of the Divine char- 
acter may be discovered and admired. The history of crea- 
tion will be an absorbing theme of interest and study. For 
with it are associated the grandeur, the might, the wisdom, 
and goodness of God. The extent and duration of His 
kingdom and being, the profundity of His counsels, and the 
sublimity of His pow^r and glory, are all brought under 
review in the volume of creation. Communications from 



384 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

those sons of light who were spectators of that event may be 
imparted to the saints. And add to this the fact that God 
will throw open to the inspection of His children the entire 
universe, and permit them to visit all the worlds that move in 
cloudless majesty through His vast dominions, and what sub- 
lime lessons will the mind learn as it sweeps over that field of 
immensity, studded with the magnificent creations of Jehovah ! 
If the cultivated mind already derives its most exalted pleas- 
ures from devout astronomical studies, will it not experience 
infinitely greater delight, then, in viewing the motions and 
listening to the melodies of the spheres ? And as the grandeur 
of God's creations was the frequent theme of prophets and 
inspired writers in general, and as nothing w^hich they have 
WTitten impresses the mind with a livelier sense of the might 
and majesty of the great Architect than their allusions to, and 
descriptions of, the vast materialism which He has fashioned, 
so is it reasonable to infer that our impressions of the great- 
ness of Jehovah will be proportionably increased as our con- 
ceptions of the extent and magnificence of His empire will 
be enlarged. We cherish it, then, as a precious conviction 
that those heavens into whose holy depths our eyes have so 
often and admiringly peered will become accessible to our 
spirits, and that it will be our privilege to survey and explore 
all the worlds w-ith w^hich they are peopled, as we now do the 
earth upon which we dwell. 

But another source of happiness in our future home will be 
the volume of Divine Providence. That book contains many 
chapters, which must be intensely interesting to all the 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 385 

inhabitants of heaven. The first will be that which relates 
to our personal history. There is much in our present life 
which w^e imperfectly comprehend, and still much more that 
is dark and mysterious. In many things which affect our 
circumstances and condition, and which modify or determine 
our character, we may recognize the presence of a super- 
human agency, but cannot always know the reasons which 
influenced the Divine mind in its providential dealings with 
us. Things to which, perhaps, we now assign no higher 
origin than that of our own minds or foresight, may there be 
recognized as the legitimate products of a power behind our 
mental operations, which, unknown to us, controlled these in 
such a manner as to conduct us to the results which appeared 
in our life. We like to think of God as present in all things, 
and of His unseen hand as shaping our destinies for both 
worlds. For the Saviour has taught us that His providence 
extends to the smallest particulars of our history. A sparrow 
falls not to the ground, neither is a hair injured upon our 
heads, without the Divine permission. God exercises a 
watchful care OA'er His people, and '^ has given His angels 
charge concerning them." Such is the view every Christian 
delights to entertain of the Divine protection. It is a great 
comfort to know that His eye is upon us, and His hand over 
us, and that His w^ill determines our steps. I love to see my 
God in the spangled heavens, and hear the silent utterances 
of its hosts saying to my inmost soul, God is here. I love to 
see God in the storm that darkens and sweeps the firmament, 
and hear Him in the voice of the royal thunder, as it rolls 
33 



886 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

along the great archway of the universe. I love to see Him 
in the majestic ocean and in the quiet landscape, and hear 
His breathings in the soft melodies of the sighing breeze. 
But God is more beautiful still when I see Him in the tear of 
penitence, or the smile of resignation. And if such be our 
feelings here, with what interest and wonder will we scan 
those records of Providence which are at present so obscure 
that no human penetration can read them ! Then will the 
life that now appears disjointed and gloomy be a brilliant 
chain of connected events, upon which every dark calamity 
endured will form a glittering gem. 

In this world, '' we cannot, by searching, find out God,'' 
for " His paths are in the seas, and His footsteps in the deep 
waters." This is generally our experience in those afflictive 
dispensations w^hich befall us. We know not why God 
should have given us that angelic child, and invested it with 
such attractive charms, and endowed it with such rare 
powers that it drew every fibre of our hearts around it, and 
then just when the mind and heart were unfolding their 
precious treasures destroy our hopes. The loss of friends 
who, according to our apprehension, had not yet fulfilled 
their mission, or the failure of health or fortune, may be 
shrouded in impenetrable gloom to our minds, and yet those 
very calamities may be the vestures which conceal from our 
view the most valuable blessings which the hand of God has 
ever bestowed upon us. '' Ye know not now, but ye shall 
know hereafter," said our Saviour to His disciples ; and thus 
it is with all God's people. Jacob once ''said all these 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 387 

things are against me." But the sequel of his history proved 
that God permitted those trials for the patriarch's good. And 
when once in heaven, where we shall have a full knowledge 
of the providential appointments of God, while He was fitting 
us for a better world, we will be constrained to praise Him 
for those painful incidents which here cause us our deepest 
sorrow. We will then see that infinite mercy dictated our 
afflictions, and infallible wisdom controlled them for our 
profit. And if not now, we shall hereafter see that all things 
are ordered by God. As every atom vibrates with omnipo- 
tence, so every event connected with the salvation of the soul 
is instinct with Divinity. For as all things are ushered into 
existence to show forth the glory of God ; so has He designed 
that each one should do so in the way which He has ordained. 
And as every object and event, so, also, has every individual 
a particular mission to fulfil, and a special work to perform. 
All are necessary to complete the grand design of God, and 
to carry out those great purposes which pervade the plan of 
the Divine government. And that we may accomplish our 
part in the great work in which God, and Christ, and the 
Holy Spirit, and angels, and men, are co-workers, we must 
be qualified by that providential discipline, which an all-wise 
God sees best suited to secure this end. It is not, then, 
simply in the outspread and unveiled universe, that we shall 
behold the evidences of His wisdom, the unsearchableness of 
His goodness, and the glory of His power ; but also in all 
the great and small events w^hich enter into our personal 
history. 



388 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

But in the volume of Providence are also registered the 
histories of all those men and nations, whom Almighty power 
made instrumental in carrying out the purposes of redemp- 
tion. It will reveal the amazing fact, that a sleepless Provi- 
dence presided over all the physical, intellectual, and moral 
forces which were active in fashioning the history of this 
earth, and of the human race. So that, while men ascribed 
the distinction and glory of nations and individuals to their 
own skill and genius, and the misfortunes and ruin of others 
to opposite causes, the unseen power of Jehovah was the 
dominant force among the elements which made up the 
history of redeemed humanity. For ^'the Lord hath estab- 
lished His throne in the heavens, and His kingdom ruleth 
over all.'' And from that exalted position He surveys all 
things. His ear hears all *the w^hispers in the secret cabinets 
of the Kings and rulers of this world, and His eye beholds 
every rising purpose in all those hearts which are beating 
over our earth, and whenever and wherever He sees any 
attempt, or plan, to counterwork the purposes of His govern- 
ment, He utters the command from His throne — ^'Be still, 
and know that I am God, I w^ill be exalted among the 
heathens, I will be exalted in the earth." And before the 
power of that w^ill, thrones fall, kings expire, and nations 
perish. And it is not an arbitrary and tyrannic rule w^hich 
His Providence exercises over all things. But as the Maker 
and Preserver of all, the great Proprietor who has reared this 
immense material fabric, beautified it with a rare excellence, 
and filled it with immortal beings. He superintends and 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 389 

controls the world and all His creatures in such a manner, 
that as a whole, it may reflect the glory of His perfections, 
and contribute to the everlasting happiness of His righteous 
and intelligent creatures. And, therefore, all those things 
obscurely visible here, will become manifest in heaven, and 
form exalted themes of praise and glory. No volume will 
ever possess richer materials for meditation, or profounder 
exhibitions of the omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence, 
and infinite mercy of Jehovah ; and there can be no question, 
that the sparkling multitudes who encircle the eternal throne, 
will be indebted to the records of this book, for many of 
their loftiest and sweetest strains. 

In addition to these sources of happiness in the Christian's 
future home, there are yet more exalted elements of glory in 
the occupations of saints. The mysteries of redemption will 
engage their highest efforts, and ravish their souls with their 
holiest raptures. All things else which are tributary to the 
happiness of the righteous are secondary to the work of 
redemption. That scheme of mercy will stand out alone 
amid all the stupendous trophies of the infinite mind, and 
will be invested with a sublime grandeur peculiarly its own 
— clothed with such an overwhelming eflTulgence of Divine 
love, that it will be as marked, distinct, and flaming among all 
the other works of God, as the sun in his noon-day splendor; 
and the lustre of all others will fade away in the superior glory 
of the work of redeeming mercy. And then, with enlarged 
and perfected capacities, our conceptions of the evil of sin, and 
the depths into which it had plunged us, will be clearer; and, 
33* 



390 PRESENT AND FUTUllE HOME. 

therefore, the greatness of a Saviour's compassion and a 
Redeemer's love, which elevated us to a blessed immmortal- 
ity, will be better appreciated than now. And as we survey 
the infinite dimensions of the '^length, and breadth, and 
height, and depth of the love of Christ," our souls will 
exult amid the w^onders of the New^ Jerusalem ; and while 
we raise our ascriptions of praise to Him, and join our fellow- 
heirs of that glorious inheritance in the shout, '^ Worthy is 
the Lamb !" there w^ill be such inflows of His glory into the 
channels of our being as to fill us wuth all the *' fullness of 
God." 

But it is also proper to observe, if we would rise to a just 
conception of the blessedness of the saints, that their holy 
natures w^ill be susceptible of infinite progress, and of ex- 
pansion without limit. Progression is a law of our spiritual 
being. As the power of motion w^hich the Creator has 
imparted to the physical universe is a law w^hich must always 
remain in force so long as the perfection of that organism 
shall continue, so is progress of the mind a law coexistent 
and coenduring with the mind itself. It is written upon all 
the intellectual and moral faculties of the soul ; and they are 
destined to rise from one height of excellence to another 
through all eternity. 0, my soul ! what a prospect there is 
before thee ! for there is a moment in thy future histor}', if 
ransomed by a Saviour's blood and sanctified by the Holy 
Spirit, when thou shalt occupy that exalted position of excel- 
lence which now marks the progress of the archangel nearest 
the throne of the eternal Godhead ! What a sublime destiny 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 391 

does eternity open up to the sanctified ! The eye of faith 
may peer onward as through ten thousand heavens, and see 
one series after another of increasing and overwhelming 
glories rising along its path ; for with God as the source and 
centre, and eternity as the circle and range of our happiness, 
we can only find fitting utterance of its vastness in the 
language of inspiration, " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
neither have entered into the heart of man the things which 
God has prepared for them W'ho love him." This view 
gives us a faint idea of the meaning of those lofty ex- 
"pressions in relation to that blessed w^orld, '' a weight of 
glory," " an exceeding weight of glory," " an exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory." 

And this brings us to the last feature of our heavenly 
home, and that is, its perpetuity. It wall abide forever — it 
is eternal. This is its crowming excellence. That which 
greatly depreciates the value of the most desirable earthly 
possessions, and honors, and distinctions, is their liability to 
pass away ; yea, the inevitable destruction which awaits them. 
Decay and death are imprinted upon all things. Among the 
properties w^hich enter into the constitution of earthly objects, 
we neither find permanence nor indestructibility. God has 
impressed mutability upon all the works of man. No 
magnificent city that he has built, no stately pile nor towering 
pyramid which his genius has planned and his industry has 
executed, but hath either crumbled into a heap of ruins, or 
has upon it the marks of decay. No, not the most costly 
and durable monument of marble or of brass will remain 



392 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

exempt from this inevitable doom. Man himself is an illus- 
tration of this frailty of human things ; '' for his days are as 
the grass, as a flower of the field he flourisheth ; for the wind 
passeth over it, and it is gone, and the place that knew it 
shall know it no more forever." '' Our fathers, where are 
they?" '^ And the prophets, do they live forever?" Alas! 
what millions have gone dowm into the tomb, and what 
precious treasures does the earth hold over to the resurrection 
morn ! Look w^e at our firesides and households ; our 
families are growing less. 

** Friend after friend departs, 
Who has not lost a friend !" 

The most lovely and happily-conditioned family has ger- 
minating within it, the seeds of death and dissolution. But 
the Christian dies but once, and dying, lives forever. Bless- 
ed be God ! we can stand by our deserted family altars, and 
desolate hearths, and look up to our future glorious home, 
already occupied by our sainted friends, and rejoice, that 
decay and blight never fall upon the Christian's home in 
heaven. 

** No chilling winds, nor poisonous breath, 
Can reach that healthful shore ; 
Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, 
Are felt and feared no more !" 

No, it is permanent. Its foundations are laid in the im- 
mutability of Jehovah — its walls are immortality, its gates 
praise, and its day eternity. There it stands in its peerless 
glory, the metropolis of the universe, luminous wdth the light 
of God and the lamb. And amid all the changes which may 



PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 393 

sweep with desolating power over thrones and kingdoms, it 

will stand radiant with salvation, and remain unshaken and 

unimpaired, amid — 

** The wreck of matter 
And the crash of worlds." 

Blessed city of God ! Glorious home of my departed ! may 
my step never falter while I tread the road to thee! May 
my efforts never be relaxed to make my calling and election 
sure, until safely sheltered within thy walls! 

And may not those who have furnished inmates for that 
glorious home — who have watched by the pillow of the 
dying \vhom they loved, until their spirits took wing for that 
place of rest, derive comfort from the assurance that they are 
supremely blest! 0! you would not, if you could, my 
bereaved brother, or sister, silence one of the harps of heaven 
by bringing back the spirit whose hand sweeps it to the 
praise of the Redeemer! Nay, the more you contemplate 
the glory of that home, and the blessedness of its occupants, 
the more you will become reconciled to the most painful 
bereavements ; while the hope of entering therCj will excite 
you to unremitted diligence to obtain that purity of heart, 
without w^hich, we cannot see God. Aged disciple, thou art 
near thy home, and ! such a home ! Labor patiently, thou 
man of toil, pray fervently, and wait calmly, for thy redemp- 
tion draw^eth nigh ! Weary, afflicted, desolate one, drink the 
cup which a father's hand gives, for thy night of sorrow is fast 
passing aw^ay ; for behold, the daw^n of an eternal day of 
glory is now breaking upon thy clouds. God grant that all 



394 PRESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 

of US may set a proper estimate upon the realities of a coming 
eternity. And may He, " who worketh within us according to 
His own pleasure," kindle in our bosoms an ardent longing 
for that blessed abode, that while threading our weary pil- 
grimage through this world, we may cause the vale of our 
humiliation to resound with these earnest breathings of the 
home-sick soul. 

«^ Jerusalem! my happy home ! 
When shall I come to thee ? 
When shall my sorrows have an end ? 
Thy joys when shall I see ? 

! happy harbor of the saints, 

! sweet and pleasant soil; 
In thee no sorrow may be found, 

No grief, no care, no toil. 

Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 

God grant I once may see 
Thy endless joys, and of the same 

Partaker, aye, to be. 

Thy walls are made of precious stones, 

Thy bulwarks diamonds square. 
Thy gates are of right orient pearl, 

Exceeding rich and rare. 

Ah, my sweet home, Jerusalem ! 

Would God I were in thee ; 
Would God my woes were at an end. 

Thy joys that I might see. 

Thy saints are crowned with glory great, 

They see God face to face ; 
They triumph still, they still rejoice, 

Most happy in their case. 



PEESENT AND FUTURE HOME. 395 

Quite through the streets "^ith silver sound, 

The flood of life doth flow ; 
Upon whose banks, on every side, 

The wood of life doth grow. 

There trees forevermore bear fruit. 

And evermore do spring ; 
There saints and angels ever sit, 

And evermore do sing. 

Jerusalem ! my happy home ! 

Would God I were in thee ! 
Would God my woes were at an end, 

Thy joys that I might see." 

May such be the aspirations of our minds, and such the 
song of our pilgrimage, until the rays of hope which gild 
the distant horizon shall have melted into the glory of perfect 
day, and the joys which now thrill our hearts have swelled 
into the raptures of the redeemed, and the glorious shout 
echoes through the arches of the Eternal Palace — Home ! — 
Horae ! — Sw^eet Heavenly Home ! 



CHAPTER NINETEENTH. 

DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT, OR THE USES WE 
SHOULD MAKE OF AFFLICTIONS AND BEREAVE- 
MENTS. 



" AiSiction is the wholesome soil of virtue, 
Where patience, honor, sweet humanity, 
Calm fortitude, take root, and strongly flourish." 



There is no evil whose ashes may not nourish seeds of 
blessing. The inundating flood and the consuming wave of 
fire may have swept away the golden treasures of the field, 
but they have left a fertilizing deposit to produce a richer 
harvest. And so have I seen the swelling floods of sorrow, 
and the consuming fires of affliction, leave the preparations 
of a greater good than they have taken. Having communed 
with each other around the sepulchres of our departed, I may 
hope that there is a sufficient degree of sympathy established 
between us, to justify me in addressing my readers on the 
uses which we should make of afflictive dispensations. As I 
have passed years in the school of personal affliction, and 
wept over the dust of those who were '' bone of my bone, 

and flesh of my flesh," I may perhaps be able, under the 

(396) 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 397 

guiding hand of the spirit, to lead others to those sources 
where my own soul has gathered consolation and strength. 
This I shall endeavor to do, by a statement of the views 
which we should take of these dispensations. 

And first of all, it is important to remember that God is in 
our afflictions and bereavements. His will determines them, 
and His hand brings them to pass. It is not a blind chance 
that checkers our life with joys and sorrows. Neither are 
those changes incident to the relations we sustain to others, 
simply the results of secondary causes acting in conjunction 
with our constitutional organization ; for even those laws of 
mutation to which all material things are subjected, can only 
remain in active force, and accomplish their end, as long as 
they are vitally connected with that Almighty powder, whose 
energy fills and animates all things. God is, therefore, 
accomplishing His purposes concerning us and our families 
through these instrumentalities, and may consequently be 
rerarded as the author of our bereavements in all cases w^here 
persons have not, from choice, been the procurers of their 
own sickness, by a violation of the laws of their being. 
But we should also remember, that when God bereaves it is 
with a wise design. It is not a blind stroke, or a random 
blow, which prostrates the tabernacle of an immortal being. 
And as He afflicts not because he is cruel and delights in our 
distress, but out of love and for our profit, we should always 
expect to derive a greater ultimate good than that which we 
forfeit by calamity. And this we may do, even when deprived 
of our most cherished friends, if we improve the chastenings 
34 



398 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

of the Lord to the enlargement and correctness of our views 
of His character and government, of life and death, of 
time and eternity. God comes in these dispensations as a 
Sovereign, and by the sickness, the circumstances, and the 
time when He removes a friend, He announces the fact that 
'' no one can stay His hand, or say unto Him, what doest 
thou ?" Said a weeping mother to me, who had lost a child 
— ''I could not bear it, did I not see the finger of God in 
this affliction." But it was not simply a correct view of His 
Sovereignty which gives Him an absolute right to all His 
creatures, to dispose of them according to His pleasure ; but 
this attribute associated with those other perfections which 
make up His character, that sustained her in the hour of 
tribulation. She knew that He was a God of infinite wisdom, 
and, therefore, capable of directing all things aright, and of 
immeasurable goodness, and that, consequently. His infallible 
mind saw that it was for the good of the child, for the happi- 
ness of the parents, and the glory of His name, that He 
removed it to eternity. And it is not difficult to become 
thoroughly convinced that He is worthy of such confidence 
and trust at all times. But to feel this, we must look up and 
see Him seated on His exalted throne, clothed in all those 
Divine attributes w^hich are necessary to constitute Him the 
all-wise ruler of the universe. And we should also know, 
that it is impossible for God to do wrong, for that is infinitely 
foreign to His nature ; neither can He be mistaken as to the 
fitness of things, or the opportuneness of events, since all time 
and eternity lie open to His inspection, and He sees all the 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 399 

results worked out before He sets in motion the cause that 
produces them, and that, therefore, He acts not blindly, but 
wisely, when He visits a family with death. " Just, and 
strong, and opportune, is the moral rule of God." 

With such conceptions of the Divine character and 
government, w^e can cheerfully acquiesce in all that His will 
ordains. And here, then, we are brought to the first solid 
ground of com.fort, and the first permanent basis of good in 
afflictions, holy and unreserved submission to God. Peace 
never visits the soul alarmed in view of its sinfulness, until it 
bows in unconditional surrender to heaven ; and light breaks 
not in upon the mind laboring under dark calamities, until it 
admits and feels that it is God's prerogative to bestow 
such comforts, or to withdraw such blessings as the counsel 
of His will determines best suited to secure our happiness 
and to promote His glory. Throw yourself upon His bosom, 
as the distressed child does upon that of its mother, and He 
w^ill comfort you. We must not attempt to fly from God, but 
rush to His embrace, that His everlasting arms may encircle 
us, and shield us from dangers. A soul is never so lovely in 
the sight of God as when it kneels in humility at His throne, 
and breathes the prayer which came from heaven, '' Thy will 
be done !" God loves to hear that prayer from the creatures 
whom He governs ; for although too feeble to contend with 
the Eternal, or war against His providence, they may have 
strength, and peace, and glory, by submitting to His w^ill. 
" Thou shalt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is staid 
on thee." " Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that 



400 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness 
and hath no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord, 
and stay upon his God." 

Seeing, then, that God moves in these calamities, and that 
they come with a wise design, we should farther inquire 
what lessons he wishes to impress upon our minds. How 
shall we interpret the language of His providence? He 
comes to us robed in dispensations which make His presence 
awfully solemn. I should regard it as a thing of infinite 
moment to be placed in such circumstances. And I should 
carefully inquire what God means to teach me in reference to 
myself. Do I not hear His voice addressing me from that 
silent coffin in my house, and from that shrouded slumberer, 
*^Be ye also ready?" . Ready for what? For thy transi- 
tion from time to eternity, my soul ; to meet death, to die 
happy and hopeful, and to enter into the presence of thy 
Judge. And 0, what a solemn lesson have I here to learn ! 
what a momentous question must I decide ! Am I ready to 
die ? Have I made the needful preparation ? Am I clothed in 
the robe of Divine righteousness? Am I justified, and have 
I peace with God through the Lord Jesus ? my God! help 
me to deal honeslty with my own soul. Lord Jesus, aid me 
in this business of my salvation! Eternal Spirit, descend 
into the council-chamber of my heart, that I may act with 
Thy wisdom when I sit in judgment upon the great, the 
tremendous interests of my immortality. my soul! awake 
thou to a just sense of thy condition and state before God. 
It is not a matter of small moment whether thou shalt eter- 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 401 

nally rejoice in glory, or weep in hell. Thou art not a worth- 
less trinket, my soul ! The wealth of the universe was too 
poor to purchase thee ; the atoning blood of the Son of God 
bespeaks thy value. Thou shalt live forever. To thee 
eternity is no trifle ; for thy capacities shall forever swell and 
overflow wdth heaven's raptures, or labor with eternal woes. 
O ray soul ! the thought is startling ; it is oppressive ; it 
gathers within it the energies of eternity ; it flames and 
breathes with endless anguish — thou mayst be lost ! Shut 
out of heaven, and confined in dark despair ! The unquench- 
able fire may roll its consuming w-aves through the channels 
of thy being ! The undying death- w^orm may w'rithe as 
a w^ounded monster in thy halls of memory! and conscience 
cause thee to utter w^oes wide and deep as eternity! But, 
must thou be lost ? must a dark and cheerless future be thy 
portion ? It must not, it will not, be thy doom, if thou 
harden not thyself to reject the overtures of mercy. If thou 
w^ilt hear the voice of God and obey it ; if thou wilt fly for 
life to the death of Jesus, and for shelter from the storms 
of sin and affliction to the Rock of ages, cleft to make 
for us a hiding-place from a guilty conscience and the 
wrath of God, thou mayest live ! 

From myself may I turn to you who peruse these pages, 
and speak kindly but earnestly to you, touching your salva- 
tion. Afflictions form an important element among the 
means used in God's economy, for the awakening and 
saving of the soul. Trials appropriately used wnll tend to 
the sanctification of saints; and bereavements properly 
34* 



402 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

regarded will utter voices of warning to the unconverted. 
But persons are not always converted when they are afflicted ; 
the reason why these trials are not always effectual in lead- 
ing to regeneration, is, because they are not used as God 
designs they should be. If an individual is not in a state of 
reconciliation with heaven, when he is brought under afflic- 
tion, he should regard it as a messenger from God's throne, 
sent on a special mission to him. It says to him — " Behold 
I stand at the door and knock." " Set thy house in order." 
^^Itis appointed unto man once to die, and after that the 
judgment." Be ready for your departure. And if this 
messenger has come to you darkly robed as he is, and pain- 
ful as may be the intelligence he bears, give him a patient 
hearing. Let your soul ponder his lessons, and give itself to 
serious reflection. Let your eye run over the past, and also 
look searchingly within. Open your Bible and learn the true 
cause of your suffering. Ascribe not the calamity to second- 
ary causes, for there is one behind these w^ho orders and 
controls them. Behold God in your afflictions, and recog- 
nize in them His hand infficting his displeasure against sin. 
Let the holy book unfold to you His character, while in it 
as a mirror you see your own reflected. Take a view^ of the 
extent and purity of the Divine law ; — how it is a discerner 
of the thoughts, and lays its authority upon the intents of the 
heart. See its right to marshal outw^ard action under its 
control, and command the inward homage of the soul to God. 
Study your delinquencies, and soon shalt thou discover that 
thine iniquities are infinite. Ponder the description which 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 403 

Paul gives of the iinregenerate in Ephesians. " Without 
Christ, ahens from the commonwealth of Israel, strangers 
from the covenants of promise, without hope and without 
God in the world." And such is the condition of all those 
who have not yet acknowledged '^ Christ the power of God, 
and the wisdom of God, to salvation." '' Who have 
not been born of water and the spirit, and become new^ 
creatures in Christ Jesus." If you belong to this class, 
reflect for a moment on the several aspects assigned to the 
sinner's state. '' Without Christ." Then you are cut off 
from God's favor, and you are destitute of holiness, '' without 
which no one sees the Lord." A branch separated from the 
parent stem has no quickening and sustaining power. It 
must wither and die. The soul out of Christ is barren of all 
good, and devoid of spiritual life. You have then no peace, 
for '' out of Christ, God is a consuming fire." Then you 
cannot run to Him as your '^ strong tower" which shelters 
from earthly calamities and the retributions of eternity. You 
should, therefore, suffer your afflictions and bereavements to 
lead you to the feet of the Saviour. Come to Him, and 
bring with you a broken heart and a contrite spirit, and He 
will give you rest, comfort, and hope. None other can help 
you, and defend you. And if you remain without Him, what 
will you do in soul-troubles ? What will you do when your 
own tabernacle is falling to pieces, and your soul is required ? 
What will you do for an advocate when you come to the 
judgment? You cannot plead your own cause, '^ for every 
mouth will be stopped and the whole world stand guilty 



404 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

before God." What will you do amid the fires of the last 
great day, amid crashing worlds, and a dissolving universe, 
w^hen the crucified One will be the only refuge of the soul ? 
Ponder these things while affliction marshals before your mind 
the great realities of a boundless future. 

But if unconverted, then you are also an alien from God's 
spiritual commonwealth, and have no claim to His protection 
and blessing. The foreigner cannot rightfully expect the 
privileges and blessings of citizenship, until after his adoption 
as a member of this confederacy. And can we ask less for 
the kingdom of Jesus, than we do for a human government.'^ 
Shall w^e approbate the ordinance in the human, and repro- 
bate the same rule in the Divine ? If not, then as a spiritual 
alien, you can set up no claim to God's care and blessing. 
Not one of the promises which gem the sacred page can be 
yours, until adopted into God's family, and until you have 
become a child and heir of heaven. For if not born again, 
then you are a '' stranger from the covenants," in which the 
Lord engages to defend, and keep, and bless us. And in 
your distress, no one has authority to apply to you the promise 
— '^the eternal God is thy refuge, and the everlasting arms 
are underneath you." Nor yet say to you ; '^ Cast thy burden 
upon the Lord and He will sustain you." It would be un- 
faithfulness to God to console w^ith His promises, those who 
still refuse to sue for His mercy ; and it would do injury to 
the soul to bind it up with any other balm, but that of Gilead. 
We must not cry peace, where there is no peace ; but 
admonish the soul to enter into the way of reconciliation with 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 405 

heaven. But the condition of the unregenerate is still more 
melancholy, for he is " a stranger." A stranger to grace, to 
purity, to hope. A stranger's condition is sad. When 
wandering through distant climes, surrounded by the living 
throngs of populous cities, or amid the varied and rich 
scenery of nature, everywhere and at all times there is a sense 
of loneliness hanging about his heart. And ^o, also, is he 
who is estranged from God conscious of an inward and 
aching void. It is sad when the stranger falls sick in a 
strange land, in a strange house, and meets death far away 
from the sweet influences of home. God ! how hard it is 
to die alone ! to have no hand of affection to wipe the death- 
drops from the brow, no sympathizing friend to cool the 
parched tongue and gently smooth his passage from this 
world. But what will it be to die w^ithout the gracious 
presence of God? To have no reconciled Father to put His 
arm beneath the sinking soul, no Spirit to comfort, no Saviour 
to go with him through the dark valley — ! this is the 
painful end of him who has no interest in '' the covenants of 
promise." And truly melancholy is the stranger's funeral; 
a rude coffin receives the shroudless corpse ; a few follow to 
the potter's field, where his remains are committed to earth, 
without one tear of affection to embalm his ashes. But who 
could picture the disposal of the soul that passed in its 
estrangement from God into eternity ? Eternal Mercy! what 
I are the funeral obsequies of a lost soul ? Shrouded in living 
flame, and buried in bottomless perdition ! 

But the impenitent are " without hope and without God in 



406 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

the world." Another touch of darkness to the picture of 
impenitency. No star of hope to shine in a dark sky, to com- 
fort in sorrow, and to sustain in death. No reconciled God. 
Living without God, is to live beyond the circle of His smiles, 
and the range of His favors. And is it not a lamentable state to 
be found in, when God sends death into the family ? To have 
no heavenly Father to go to, and no compassionate Saviour to 
share our burdens and woes? And yet this spiritual aliena- 
tion from heaven, and this comfortless state of the soul, is all 
the result of our choice. For in the dawn of life did the 
Lord already approach you, loaded wuth rare blessings, and 
say, '^ Those that seek me early shall find me." And behold 
how all along your path there gleamed the light of His favor. 
Along the road of life did He station heralds to warn and to 
invite you to become partakers of the great salvation. Every 
day there came on swift w^ing bright blessings from a Father's 
throne, mingled with a voice from the bleeding Jesus on the 
cross, uttering the invitation, " Look unto me and be ye 
saved," while the Spirit ever pointed in the way to happiness 
and to God, and whispered '^This is the way, walk ye in 
it." And after all these admonitions produced no effect, and 
the droppings of the sanctuary neither softened nor awakened 
the heart, and when Jesus had stood knocking at your door 
until his locks were wet with dew^, and could not gain admis- 
sion into the soul for which He had agonized and bled, His 
amazing love was not yet exhausted, and He came in your 
bereavements to cut the cords which bound your affections to 
the dust, and carried your treasure to heaven, that your 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 407 

hearts might follow it there. The kind parent does not 
always find the gentlest means the most efficient to mould the 
character of a beloved child ; and thus, also, may our 
heavenly Father reverse the current of our affections from 
earth to heaven, by taking to Himself one who had been en- 
shrined in our hearts. Very beautifully does Tholuck remark, 
" Is it not true that \\hen the sun shines upon us, and we feel 
its gentle warmth in our life, we become indifferent to its 
mild beams, and do not so much as ask, whence comes the 
pleasant light? Because it is grateful to our feelings, we 
think that it is a matter of course. If any one says this is 
the work of God, it is said in mexe formality , Not until the 
tempest comes which we dread, do we look around us and 
inquire, whence comes this ?" O, should you then, dear reader, 
find yourself in an unrenew^ed state in the midst of your afflic- 
tions and bereavements, hasten at once, and with a penitent 
heart, to your Redeemer. A tear of penitence, shed by a stricken 
soul, is, in His sight, a brighter je\vel than any of the gems 
with which the azure vault is studded ; for that tear will draw 
upon it the eyes of God and His angels, and all heaven w^ill 
turn to look upon the penitent, while the news rolls through 
the armies of the sky, '' Behold he prayeth." Many motives 
might be offered to the consideration of the afflicted for an 
immediate consecration to God. It is a solemn duty. '^ God 
commands men every where to repent." And He has a right 
to issue this requirement ; and every moment that we live in 
sin, we pour contempt upon His authority, and breathe defi- 
ance at the threatenings which come clothed with omnipotence. 



408 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT, 

All the great interests associated with the present and the 
future call for immediate reconciliation with God. And His 
goodness and mercy of w-hich w^e are the undeserving 
recipients demand a cessation of this warfare with the 
Eternal. Is it not enough that so much of our time has been 
prostituted upon subordinate, if not base things ? Not enough 
that w^e have so long injured our God, and crucified afresh the 
Lord Jesus? Is it so pleasant to live in self-condemnation, 
and in conflict with every principle of the Divine govern- 
ment? Encircled with memorials of His goodness, and our- 
selves the most amazing monuments of His forbearance and 
love, do we remain unmoved ? Is there no flesh in these 
hearts? Alas! what blindness and hardness where men 
remain unaffected under influences w^hich should be adequate 
to awaken the most careless, and to melt the most obdurate! 
Suffer me to urge one more consideration, and that is, the 
great danger of losing your soul if you pass through severe 
afflictions and painful bereavements without a change of 
purpose and of heart. It is impossible not to feel at all when 
death is at work in the circle of our friendship. The realities 
of eternity will agitate the soul, and the stroke of death, 
though it falls upon another, will open the fountains of grief, 
and awaken reflection; so that, if convictions are resisted, 
solemn thoughts pushed from the mind, tender emotions 
turned out of the heart, and all impressions, like marks upon 
the sandy beach, obliterated by the next day's tide of excite- 
ment or business, there is little hope left of that individual's 
salvation. For it is while the earth is rocked by the thunder, 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 409 

and the shower saturates the ground, that the germs are 
quickened, and will spring forth if not resisted ; and thus, 
also, when a storm of Providence startles the soul to its 
secret depths, and it is bathed with the melting tenderness of 
a broken heart, the Holy Spirit will implant seeds of truth, 
which will spring up into eternal life if not crushed by an 
obstinate will. Such, then, is the use which the un- 
converted should make of their bereavements — they should 
make the foil of a friend the means of their resurrection unto 
newness of life. 

But the Christian, who has already an interest in the 
atoning sacrifice of Christ, should also derive spiritual im- 
provement from such trials. He should carefully examine 
the frames and dispositions of his mind ; for even the believer 
may become worldly-minded, and grow cold and formal in 
the discharge of his religious duties. It was spring, and I 
heard the winged south wind breathing around me, and 
I saw the sunbeams falling gently upon the earth, and 
by their soft caresses w^ooing into life many lovely and beauti- 
ful things, until the fields smiled and flowers bloomed, and 
forests were clad wuth attractive foliage ; but the sun shone 
on with increasing heat and brightness, and the air blew with 
greater fervor, until the song of the brook was hushed, and 
the half open flowers w^ithered upon the stem, and all nature 
lay parched and panting under a burning sky, until clouds 
which had been freighted by the far-off* fountain and the 
distant sea, came and wept for pity upon that desolate scene, 
and it was made glad, and smiled back to the clouds which 
35 



410 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

had overshadowed and refreshed it. And so have I seen the 
child of God entering upon the new life in Christ, and the 
sun of earthly prosperity poured its light around him, and the 
graces of religion bloomed awhile in his heart, and his life 
abounded with the fruits of righteousness ; but his successes 
enlarged and multiplied his cares, which choked the channels' 
and dried up the streams of grace, until his life was stripped 
of all spiritual excellence, and his soul had leanness and was 
panting in ''a dry and thirsty land ;" and then a merciful 
God formed a tempest of calamity about him, which shot from 
its dark pavilion the lightning's bolt into that mountain of his 
strength, w^hich had grown up to such dimensions between 
him and the Lord, that it caught the descending dews of 
grace that were to nourish his spirit, and the mountain fell, 
and the clouds of sorrow^ emptied their floods upon him, and 
he cried out, " all thy weaves and thy billows are gone over 
me." But I looked again, and lo ! he stood forth clothed in 
the light of his Father's countenance, and his piety was fresh, 
and his hope cheerful ; and I heard him utter in sweet and 
grateful accents — "Before I was afflicted I went astray, but 
now I keep Thy word." "It w^as good for me that I was 
afflicted, that I might learn Thy statutes." " For I know, O 
Lord, that Thy judgments are right, and that Thou in faith- 
fulness hast afflicted me." " Thus many shall be purified, 
and made w^hite, and tried." 

But in a matter of such vital concern to the soul, and on 
which such momentous interests are pending, it will be w^ell 
for us to consider more particularly the advantages w^hich the 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 411 

Christian should reap from afflictions and bereavements. 
From the moment of our conversion, we are placed under 
that moral discipline which the Infinite Mind sees necessary 
to the development of that style of character which the Lord 
woiild have us possess. Those immortal jewels with w^hich 
the crown of Jesus is to be gemmed, need grinding and 
burnishing rightly to reflect the excellence of His religion 
here, and His glory yonder. A certain providential course 
of training is needed in conjunction with the constant opera- 
tions of the Spirit, to carry forward without interruption, the 
work of sanctification towards its completion in Christ. For 
all who have any knowledge of their own hearts, are assured 
that, even after renewing grace has commenced doing its 
office, it meets with many obstructions in its gracious work. 
We are so earthly in our dispositions and feelings, and are 
so constantly associated with tangible objects, that it is only 
by extraordinary and superhuman influences, that our affec- 
tions can be fixed, abidingly Jixed^ upon those things which 
are at the right hand of God. And even with all our watch- 
ings and struggles for freedom from worldly entanglements, 
the wings of the soul are often trammeled and bound by the 
network of sensual influences which a world hostile to grace 
throws around them. Even friends, companions, and chil- 
dren sometimes usurp that sanctuary in our souls, which 
should be filled with the awful presence of Jehovah. And 
if we strive to maintain God's appropriate supremacy in our 
affections, the objects of our human love bind with strong 
cords our spirits to the dust. And hence it is for our own 



412 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

good when God breaks these bonds, either By crushing the 
idol, or by taking our friends to himself. The Master is 
intent upon weaning us from the things around us, and this is 
never so effectually done as when He comes in sickness and 
in death. It is on such occasions that we learn the lesson, 
that however indispensable these family ties are to our 
existence and happiness, they are only the road through 
which we pass, and not the end of our being. Amid the 
scenes of home-desolation, we are impressively taught the 
vanity of earth, and the worth of heaven. And if ever we do 
form a just estimate of the shortness and value of time, and 
the greatness of eternity, it is while bearing the companions 
of our journey to their silent homes. 

It should be the holy determination of God's children when 
sickness comes, to make it and its issues tributary to their 
spiritual good. For it must be very obvious to all who are 
acquainted with the laws of our being, and the tendencies of 
afflictions, that they cannot and will not leave us as they 
found us. They will make us better or worse. They will 
make their subject humble or rebellious ; bring him nearer to 
God, or drive him farther from Him. The gold, in passing 
through the furnace, will acquire greater purity, and, there- 
fore, greater value ; or it will be burnt, and rendered w^orth- 
less. And so, also, the soul w^hich is not purified in its 
passage through the fires of Providence, will be hardened. 
But if any one should ask, what must I do in order to realize 
the benefits which afflictions are fitted to produce ? I would 
answer, have a care how you enter the furnace. Resolve in 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 413 

the beginning and on the first tokens of approaching trials, 
that you will bear patiently and meekly whatever the Lord 
appoints. Patience and meekness are ornaments of great 
price in the Christian character. Remember that you are in 
the hands of Almighty God, and that He has a perfect right 
to do with you according to His pleasure. But look upon 
Him, also, as one possessing infinite wisdom, and who is 
absolutely good, and, therefore, best qualified to determine 
how long and how severely you should be tried. Put on the 
Christian armor, and await the coming charge. Rest thee 
confidently on the staff of His promises, and lay hold upon 
His strength. Never allow even a silent murmur or regret to 
rise in your heart, and give no place to suggestions of un- 
belief. If the devil should tempt you with hard thoughts of 
the Divine Being, bid him to get behind thee. If a timid 
nature would generate fears, lean trustingly on Christ. Satan 
may tempt the child of God, and tell him that it is because 
he has no piety, and because God does not love him, that he 
afflicts ; but this should not shake his faith. ^' Happy is the 
man whom God correcteth ; therefore, despise not thou the 
chastenings of the Lord." " For he maketh sore and bindeth 
up ; he woundeth, and his hands make whole." 

There is nothing more common than to find persons 
severely afflicted, or painfully bereaved, who suppose that God 
is angry with them. They regard their trials as evidences 
of His displeasure. Now such a view is totally opposed to 
the declarations of Scripture. " Whom the Lord loveth He 
chastene^h, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth." 
35* f 



414 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

" If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with 
sons/' ''As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." In 
the language of Massillon — ''the more God afflicteth, the 
greater is His love and His watchfulness over you. Now 
w^hat more consoling in our sufferings ! God seeth me ; He 
nurabereth my sighs ; He weigheth mine afflictions ; He 
beholdeth my tears to flow ; He maketh them subservient to 
my eternal sanctification. Beloved sufferings, which in 
depriving me of all human aids, restore me to God, and 
render Him mine only resource in all my sorrows." If, then, 
these afflictions are administered in love, we should receive 
them with a meek and quiet spirit. Imitate the patience of 
Jesus, whose lips never uttered a murmur, and whose heart 
never throbbed with an emotion of complaint, even under 
those crushing sorrows which He endured for a world's 
redemption. He was patient and lamb-like, and with the 
help of His spirit we may exhibit a like resignation to the 
Divine will. This is what the apostle calls " being exercised 
thereby in righteousness." And then will "these light afflic- 
tions, which endure but for a moment, not be worthy to be 
compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." 
" For they work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory." 

Bereavements are also eminently fitted to try the character 
of our faith. " Blessed is the man that endureth temptation ; 
for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life which 
the Lord hath promised to them that love him." " That the 
trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 415 

perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto 
praise, and honor, and gloiy, at the appearing of Jesus 
Christ." Although we may have conclusive evidence of 
the existence of a living faith in Jesus Christ, we cannot in 
health, and amid the smiles of Providence, form a just con- 
ception of the strength of our faith. The tree may stand 
well when the atmosphere is calm ; but it will depend upon 
the depth and firmness of its hold in the earth whether it will 
abide firmly amid the w^ar and conflict of the elements. And 
so faith may appear to possess all the requisite properties for 
its endurance amid disturbing causes, but it is only when 
it is subjected to some fiery ordeal that the believer can 
know what maturity it has attained, and to what depth it is 
rooted in the promises and immutability of God. As long 
as a kind Providence smiles, and all things go well with us, 
it is not difficult to trust in God ; for there is no room even 
for a feeble faith to question the Divine goodness, so long as 
the outspread wings of the angel of the covenant defend us, 
and protect our families and homes from suffering and blight. 
But if the beaming countenance of a reconciled Father be 
covered with a cloud, and Providence frowns, and the hand 
of God withers our beautiful things, and we are overwhelmed 
with darkness and desolation, then, if our faith burns the 
brighter because of the surrounding gloom, we have assurance 
that it lays hold on eternal life. For if it keeps the soul 
fixed and trusting amid such scenes, then it is not the off- 
spring of fancy, but is founded in the Divine perfections. It 
has come from God ; and in its outflows it passes beyond all 



416 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

subordinate means, and gathers within its embrace the Rock 
of ages, into whose clefts it is rooted, and from which it 
draws its nourishment and life ; and will, therefore, endure 
as long as that Rock stands the pillar of salvation. If 
detached from all hunian helpers, and from our own strength 
we cling only " to the Rock that is higher than we are," we 
shall abide unshaken amid the severance of the fondest rela- 
tions ; and above the cries of our breaking hearts and the 
throes of our dissolving nature will rise the song of triumph, 
because our redemption is fully come. Such should be the 
Christian's faith — a faith that gathers energy from the wreck 
of his earthly hopes. And such will be the character of that 
faith which is grounded upon the veracity of Jehovah, and 
born of the Spirit, and baptized in the blood of atonement. 
It wall rise like a luminous pillar to the throne of glory, and 
fill the soul with joy, when nothing is left us but God. 

Bereavements should also breathe a mellowing light upon 
the Christian character. Their tendency, if not resisted, is 
evidently calculated to make us heavenly-minded, and to 
bring us into closer communion with the Saviour. The trials 
of life should so act upon our Christian graces as to cause 
them to send out their fragrance to refresh the more feeble in 
faith, and to proclaim the glory of Divine grace. 

" The good are better made by ill — 
As odors crush'd are sweeter still." 

* Affliction is the good man's shining scene; 
Prosperity conceals his brightest ray ; 
As night to stars, wo lustre gives to man." 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 417 

And that we may glorify God in our sufferings, let us yield 
up our all to Him, and cast ourselves upon Him as our all- 
sufficient helper. If our souls are animated with His love, 
and our scattered thoughts and affections be made to circle 
and glow around the cross, our life will become beautiful 
with holiness ; and with a quiet and submissive spirit we can 
say — 

** Heart, be still! 
In the darkness of thy wo 
Bow thee^ silently and low ; 
Comes to thee whatever God will ;— 

Be thou still ! 

Be thou stin ! 
Vainly all thy words are spoken. 
Till the word of God hath broken 
Life's dark mysteries, good or ill, 

Be thou stin ! 

Lord, my God ; 
By thy grace, may I be 
All-submissive silently. 
To the chastenings of thy rod, 

Lord, my God. 

Shepherd, King! 
From thy fulness, grant to me 
Still, yet fearless faith in thee 
Till, from night the day shall spring, 

Shepherd, King 1" 

Come then, ye bereaved and desolate souls, with your 
humble brother, once more to the sepulchres of our departed. 



418 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

Here let us realize that the Eternal God is our portion, that 
the arm which controls the resources of the universe, is 
stretched forth for our support and defence. Let us, then, 
say to our beloved ones. Rest in peace— God hath soothed 
our sorrows, and lifted our eyes and hearts to that home 
w^here your spirits rejoice. Dear departed ones, we will still 
revisit your sepulchres ; but not to lament that God has 
taken you to Himself, but to commune with you, for it is good 
for us to be here." Yea, even now we seem to hear you 
speak to us from your silent abodes. 

*< Ye good distressed ! 
Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, 
And what your bounded view, which only saw 
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more ; 
The storms of wintry time will quickly pass, 
And one immortal spring encircle all." 

And amid these hallowed scenes, let us bow in the name 
of Immanuel to breathe together our final prayer. Great 
God ! accessible to us through thy Son, it is at Thy footstool 
we kneel to breathe our sad and sorrowful prayer. Thy 
hand hath smitten us, but we will kiss that hand, for infinite 
wisdom commanded, and infinite goodness controlled that 
stroke. Our hearts he bleeding before thee — heal them with 
the balm of Thy love ! Our spirits are crushed — breathe 
upon them Thy quickening grace! Alas! we murmured, 
because w^e understood not Thy dealings with us. But 
henceforth we will say, *' Thy will be done.'' We repent 
31* 



DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 419 

of all our repinings, of our doubts and unbelief, of our 
wanderings from Thee, and of our seeking consolation apart 
from Thy favor and promises. And we fervently beg, that 
ours may be the blessedness of those whose sins are forgiven, 
and w^hose iniquities are pardoned. Our deceitful hearts 
have clung to vain hopes, and to vain desires. Our affec- 
tions were set upon objects frail as the flowers of the field. 
We loved too much this world, and now that Thou hast 
stricken with death those whom we idolized, we have been 
taught that Thou wilt not yield to another Thy rightful 
place in our affections. Merciful God ! divorced from all 
earthly things, join our souls to Thee. Lord, make us wholy 
Thine, and whatever Thou dost take away, give Thyself to us 
and fill us w^ith Thy fulness. Give us a faith that pierces 
these clouds, and that view^s the paradise above ; — a faith all- 
conquering, a love unfeigned, and a hope as an anchor to 
the soul, both sure and steadfast, and that entereth within 
the veil. And ! thou adorable Lamb of God, our com- 
passionate Redeemer, wash our souls in the fountain of Thy 
blood, that we may one day praise Thee in robes of white. 
May Thy presence go wath us through this vale of tears, 
and in death be our portion. Commission the spirits of our 
sainted to conduct us to Thy throne. And on the morning 
of that day, when Thou comest on Thy great white throne, 
and all who are in their graves shall hear Thy voice, grant 
us a part in the resurrection of the just. And when 
ushered into Thy glory, may we find all our families and 



420 DARKNESS TURNED TO LIGHT. 

friends in Thy kingdom, that unitedly we may gather the 
blessings of a happy immortality by the River of Life. 
And unto Thee the Father, and unto Thee the Son, and unto 
Thee the Holy Ghost, be honor, glory, and dominion, world 
without end. Amen. 



CHAPTER TWENTIETH. 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES, OR THE CLAIMS 
OF THE DEAD UPON THE LIVING, AND THE CARE 
WHICH SHOULD BE BESTOWED UPON THE PLACES 
OF THEIR REPOSE. 



** Lips I have kiss'd, ye are faded and cold ; 
Hands I have press'd, ye are covered with mould ; 
Form I have clasp'd, thou art crumbling away, 
And soon on thy bosom my breast I shall lay. 
Friends of my youth, I have witnessed your bloom, 
Shades of the dead, I have wept at your tomb . 
Tomb, I have wreathes, I have flowers for thee, 
But who will e'er gather a garland for me ?" 



We have not discharged all the offices of friendship and 
affection which we owe to the departed, when we have con- 
signed " ashes to ashes, and dust to dust," amid the solemni- 
ties of our holy religion. There are other duties which we 
owe them, the performance of which cannot be neglected 
without seriously reflecting upon our character as individuals, 
and upon our piety as Christians. To give them a Christian 
burial is a simple duty; to cherish and perpetuate their 
memory are marks of esteem. Our beneficent Creator has for 

36 (421) 



422 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

wise purposes implanted in all human bosoms the desire to be 
remembered by the living, when they shall sleep in the dust. 
And as none can be indifferent whether they have, or have 
not, a place in the affections of those Vv'hom they love, so 
they are also conscious of a like solicitude to retain their hold 
upon the memory of friends after their present relations with 
this life have been dissolved. And as it would be painful to 
us personally were we assured that we would be forgotten 
and neglected after our removal from this world, we should 
be careful that such is not the doom of our departed ones. 
In this, as well as in every other particular, should we bring 
the force of that law which is very properly styled the golden 
rule, to bear upon our conduct: "Do unto others as ye 
would have others do unto you." And as the wish is foreign 
to all properly constituted minds, and in conflict with the 
yearnings of all affectionate hearts, that when quitting the 
busy scenes and fond circles of earth, those whom they 
cherished should cease to speak gently of them, and not recall 
whatever of goodness pertained to their character ; thus, also, 
we should not allow the memory of our sainted to be clouded 
with any uncharitable thoughts, or marred by unkind associa- 
tions or words: The suggestions of reason, and the lessons 
of religion enjoin the obligation to commit their faults and 
imperfections with their bodies to the grave, and to enshrine 
within the sanctuary of our souls all that was attractive and 
pleasant in their history. The images of our departed should 
always be images of beauty, and these will grow in loveliness 
and grace in proportion as we are successful in the combination 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 423 

of those intellectual, social, and moral, excellencies which 
adorned their lives. For while it is a humiliating fact that 
in the purest and most exalted forms of human character 
there are many visible defects, yet even our fallen nature is 
seldom found to be such a barren soil as not to produce some 
flowers. And not only should we gather up and combine as 
we would scattered gems, the virtues of those w^ho were 
intimately related to us, but of those, also, who were joined 
to us by no other ties than those which the social law creates, 
or such bonds as are the offspring of a common humanity. 
For many of the most distinguished dead are known to us 
only in the results of their labors, and in the blessings with 
which they enriched mankind ; but they are, therefore, 
worthy of our sympathy and regard. And the same con- 
siderations which would prevent us from thinking or speak- 
ing unkindly of those who have entered the spirit-land? 
should induce us to hold their reputations sacred, that we 
may vindicate their character when assailed, with an energy 
equal to that with which we would repel a wicked or mischiev- 
ous charge against ourselves. Happily this is not often neces- 
sary, since comparatively few even of the viler sort of men are 
sufficiently heartless to be altogether destitute of respect for 
those who have passed away from among the living. It 
demands such a viciousness of character, and such malignity 
of disposition, that, even in this degenerate world, society 
is not afflicted, with any considerable number of these 
cowardly revilers. And yet history and experience do 
furnish instances where men, eminent for their virtues, and 



424 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

illustrious for their varied and large benefactions, were after- 
wards the subjects of abuse and defamation. None are 
more liable to suffer reproaches of this kind than the disciples 
of the Redeemer, who, in proportion to their devotion to 
the cause of their Master, and the purity of their lives, 
excite the evil passions of the wicked. The children of God 
have always had their enemies, " for all who live godly in Christ 
Jesus shall suffer persecution." And it seems as though it were 
not enough for wicked hands to plant thorns in the path of the 
just through life, since they sometimes manifest a disposition 
to disturb their repose in the grave. But to speak 
maliciously and falsely of the departed is a crime equally 
abhorrent with that of violating their dust. 

But as there have been thousands of minds employed in 
framing aspersions and blasphemies, and tongues ever ready 
to utter them against the holy name of our adorable Re- 
deemer, it is not marvelous that such should take delight in 
traducing the characters of those who are distinguished 
for their piety. Does not the conceited and miserable skep- 
tic, the man of a weak intellect and a foul heart, sneer at the 
Old Testam.ent saints, because of their recorded imperfections, 
which they deplored, and of which they l>eartily repented ? 
just as though the sun could have no dark spots upon its 
broad disc, and yet fill the universe with light! And to 
what conclusion would the honest reader be driven, were 
they paraded on the sacred page as beings of immaculate 
purity ? Assuredly would we be forced to adjudge the 
record to be false ; or constrained to regard them, not as 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 425 

depraved human beings, struggling against their corruptions, 
in their ascent to light and glory out of that moral abyss into 
which sin had cast them ; but as unfallen or angelic creatures. 
It is truly wonderful, that with their limited advantages of 
knowledge and revelation, they should have risen to such an 
exalted eminence, w^here their characters have stood out con- 
spicuously to the eyes of centuries so luminous with moral 
glory, that their imperfections are altogether lost in the efful- 
gence of their virtues, and would not be known at all, but 
for that honest confession and statement which they have left 
us of their own delinquencies. And is it not a matter of 
profound gratulation with all upright men, that, notwithstand- 
ing the force of so many circumstances adverse to the attain- 
ment of a high degree of moral excellence, they have fur- 
nished the world with such models of piety as have seldom 
been equalled and never surpassed, by later and more favored 
generations. And as the voice of calumny has attempted to 
darken the character of the spotless Son of God, and laborious 
efforts have been called forth from master intellects, to divest 
His miracles and discourses of all their marks of Divinity ; 
and as the venomous tongue of slander has sought to obscure 
the lives of the ancient saints and martyrs, and attempted to 
depreciate the excellence of all those '^ of whom the world 
was not worthy," and who now " shine as the brightness of 
the firmament;" thus, also, may those who have lived in 
our generation, but who have fallen asleep in Jesus, be 
assailed by the enemies of the cross. And should w^e be 
cognizant of such instances, we owe it to them, and to the 
36* 



426 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

cause of our holy religion, to vindicate their characters, and 
to repel those assaults which they have no longer the power 
to meet and to refute. But as I have already intimated, it is 
but seldom that we may be required to speak in defence of 
the departed. 

But there is another method by which we can silently, but 
effectually, proclaim our veneration and love for those who 
have entered their rest, and that is by exhibiting a proper 
regard for those places where their remains repose. The 
sepulchres of our departed should be treated with profound 
respect. They should be marked with such memorials as w^e 
may be able to rear, and kept in such a condition, that they 
show' no signs of forgetfulness or neglect on the part of the 
living. The law^ which. governs those kind remembrances of 
the sainted that linger in our hearts, ahvays has a tendency 
to externalize what is inwardly present in some tangible 
outward forms. And by this means, the cords of affection 
w^hich unite us to those who have passed into eternity, 
w^ill remain healthy and active until they have drawn us 
into bUssful reunion with our loved ones in heaven. And 
this leads me to the more important and prominent part of 
the subject of this chapter, viz : the duty of the living, 
properly to care for the sepulchres of their departed. To a 
refined and cultivated mind, there is not a more mournful 
spectacle on earth than a desecrated grave, or a neglected 
and over-grown grave-yard. It evokes from the soul of fine 
sensibilities, emotions aptly pictured by the briars and 
thorns which cover it. It indicates such a want of taste and 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 427 

propriety, an absence of affection on the part of the 
living, for the dead, so unnatural and so manifestly in oppo- 
sition to the lessons of Christianity, that it is difficult to 
account for such a singular perversion of those humane and 
sacred principles, \vith which human society is instinct. And 
while w^e conceive it to be manifestly wrong, and calculated 
to reflect unfavorably upon the community, where such 
neglect of the dead is witnessed ; it is not to be presumed 
that they wish to show any intentional disrespect for their 
friends ; on the contrary, it is to be inferred, that it is solely 
because their attention has not been specially directed to the 
subject. It was the frequent and melancholy spectacle of 
dilapidated tombs and neglected grave-yards which fell under 
my notice in various sections of our land, together with the 
hope of doing something tow^ards removing the evil, that first 
suggested to me the propriety of preparing a volume on the 
subject of these pages. 

The inhabitants of our large cities and populous towms 
have wisely adopted the precaution of laying-out and improv- 
ing cemeteries at a distance sufficiently remote from the 
activities of business, to secure their dead against those un- 
pleasant changes of place w^hich the expansion of business 
sometimes demands. In many instances have the dead 
been removed to these places, w^here, it is hoped, they 
will be permitted to repose undisturbed until Christ shall 
call them from the tomb. The appropriation of ground 
consecrated by the sleeping dust of former generations 
to other uses, should be undertaken with great deliber- 



428 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

ation, and consummated in the most delicate and sacred 
manner. For it is a well-known fact, that some such 
changes have been attended with very painful feelings to 
those whose circumstances did not enable them to provide a 
second grave for those whom they fondly cherished, or who 
were not apprised that the public authorities had in contem- 
plation the conversion of old grave-yards to other purposes 
until after it was accomplished ; and, therefore, they had no 
opportunity to remove the remains of their friends. There 
sleeps now the dust of a venerable minister of God under- 
neath the w^alks of one of the most beautiful squares in one 
of our large cities. And many others in the same place are 
trodden upon by the thoughtless multitude. Whatever con- 
siderations may be alleged in favor of such changes (and we 
believe there are generally good and pressing reasons before 
public sentiment w^ould sanction them), it is assuredly painful 
to know that the form of a venerable parent, or a devoted 
friend, is continually insulted by the tread of a busy world. 
And if the health of the city and other considerations are 
absolute in their demands for such changes, then should the 
remains of all the dead be removed, at the public expense, 
to some suitably-prepared place where they may remain un- 
molested. And it affords me sincere pleasure to state that 
a few instances have come to my knowledge where the con- 
stituted authorities made the necessary provision for the 
decent re-interment of those who were raised, and ordered the 
transfer of the dead to their new abodes to be conducted in 
a becoming manner, and in strict conformity with the dictates 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 429 

of humanity, and the suggestions of our holy religion. And 
equally agreeable is it to the writer to record with gratitude 
to the Divine Being, and to those through whose instru- 
mentality those retreats of the dead were so handsomely 
fitted up and so tastefully adorned, the pleasure and profit he 
has experienced in his visits to those cemeteries in and 
around Philadelphia. It is highly gratifying to witness 
so much skill, taste, and aflfection exhibited in the many 
beautiful and appropriate monuments erected there to 
departed worth and excellence. 

The locations are generally well, and some of them 
admirably chosen. The arrangements of the lots, walks, 
enclosures, and adornments, all abundantly bespeak the 
cultivated, the excellent and liberal spirit of the families 
who have there laid the treasures of their aflfection. 
But as I shall more particularly speak in another place 
of the propriety of beautifying the abodes of the dead, 
I will return to the matter of neglecting these sacred places. 
There may be, and doubtless are, many places even in our 
cities where little attention is shown to the graves of departed 
friends; but in smaller towns, and through the country, 
it is often with an oppre&sive sadness that we are forced 
to view the dreary and cheerless aspect of the place 
where the dead repose. There is one of these ancient grave- 
yards which I visited on one occassion, that may aflford a 
t pretty accurate picture of others in diflferent localities. It 
was a place of some interest, since pure and good men, 
and persons of distinction, were buried there. There were 



430 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

also marked indications of antiquity about it. Many years 
had evidently elapsed since the last slumberer was received 
v^ithin its bosom ; and few, if any, of the families that repose 
there have representatives among the living. It was with 
some difficulty that we could enter ; and in passing through 
it, my heart was filled with mournful emotions, because 
it was in sympathy with those who had been blotted from the 
memory of the living. Near the entrance there were a few 
slabs in a tolerable state of preservation ; and with some 
effort we spelt out the names of those who had been the owners 
of those princely estates which were lying within the range 
of our vision. And as we passed on, we came to others that 
had fallen prostrate to the earth ; and the letters which made 
up their brief history were altogether efTaced. A few of the 
slabs were entire, but most of them were broken ; and all 
sadly injured by the wasting influence of time. The graves 
were sunken ; thorns, briars, and thistles grew in wild 
luxuriance upon them ; and the only spot not overrun by 
them was under a wide-spreading oak, where a group of 
noisy children were playing, giving a yet deeper shade to the 
melancholy picture of neglect which marked that holy 
ground ; and it seemed as though there issued from those 
sunken and neglected mounds reproachful utterances, saying, 
'^ We have nourished and brought up children, and they 
have rebelled against us." 

Although this is, perhaps, not a fair index of the general 
appearance of grave-yards through the land, yet is there 
scarcely a community where you would find a field upon any 



GRAVE- YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 431 

of their farms, showing such signs of neglect as we often meet 
with in the village church-yard. And even where the enclosures 
are of a substantial character, and all the facilities for improve- 
ment are at hand, there is too frequently a total absence of 
all ornament. There is no willow or evergreen planted, no 
myrtle grow^n on the graves, nothing to remind us of immor- 
tality, and no living memorial that the sleepers are remem- 
bered and loved. They are altogether unprotected from the 
broiling sun of summer, and there is not an object to break or 
soften the violence of the fiercely howling storm of winter. 

There are many things which fall under the observation of 
man, that are fitted to aw^aken his sympathy, and to fill his 
mind with melancholy reflections ; but it may be safely 
assumed, that, with a large majority of men, there is nothing 
which appeals so strongly and mournfully to their hearts, as 
the desolate and ruined condition of the consecrated enclo- 
sure of the dead. A country depopulated and despoiled by the 
ravages of war — a nation consumed by famine or wasted by 
pestilence — or a city whose inhabitants have perished under 
some terrible judgment of heaven ; all are eminently suited 
to spread oppressive sensations over the contemplative mind ; 
and yet is the feeling produced by such meditations not 
so intensely sad, nor so darkly tinged, as that with which 
w^e ponder a grave-yard in ruins. The travelers who move 
amid those scenes where the glory of centuries lies in the 
ashes at their feet, are conscious of the most profound and 
touchingly beautiful sentiments of w^hich the soul is capable, 
even under the inspiration of the most stirring recollections. 



432 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

Even Volney, so heartless on many other occasions, seemed 
to be moved with some exalted sentiments while wandering 
amid the ruins of ancient cities ; insomuch that, in that 
singular mixture of error and of darkness, " The Ruins," 
there gleams occasionally a brilliant thought, and there flashes 
sometimes a just and philosophical deduction. Who could 
visit the ruins of Babylon, and recall her ancient glory ; 
when she was the queen city of the east, and the haughty 
mistress of nations — when her astrologers and soothsayers 
thought they discovered such signs of permanency and 
strength in the frame-w-ork of her political structure, as justi- 
fied the belief, that she w^ould never share the fate of those 
empires that had yielded to the slow but sure operations of 
the silent laws of mutation which reduce all earthly great- 
ness to the dust, and not be filled with profound sensations 
of regret as he contrasted her former splendor with her 
present ruins? Once the renow^ned centre of refinement and 
learning ; the home of Daniel and other illustrious men of 
those times, but now her walls crumbled back to the earth, 
her temples, and altars, and palaces, all mingling in a com- 
mon ruin, and all her glory, except that which lingers on the 
historic page, swept aw^ay by the w^asting whirl of centuries, 
and nothing remains but the sad lesson which rises from her 
desolation, " the fashion of this world passeth away.'' 

And what Christian can contemplate the ruins of the Holy 
City, and of her temple, in which the worship of the true 
God was celebrated with imposing solemnities, and of the 
desecrated tombs of her prophets and kings, without 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 433 

weeping around those venerable abodes of the dead, and 
sharing the emotions of the scattered but patriotic exiles of 
Palestine, who turn from all the ends of the earth with throb- 
bing hearts and streaming eyes towards the sepulchres of 
their fathers? For, while no national sympathies invest 
Palestine with a sacred memory to us, our holy religion was 
cradled in Bethlehem, and w^ent forth from Jerusalem ; and 
this, therefore, has made that land which is enshrined in holy 
song and consecrated by a Saviour's tears and blood, one of 
pecuUar sympathy and interest to us ; yet even that city, 
from which flowed those streams of life of which we drink, is 
not cherished by us with that affectionate regard which we 
feel for that place w^here our departed repose. For while 
many holy associations cluster around the land whose hills 
and glens once resounded with the sublime effusions of the 
sweet singer of Israel, and while it is memorable as the 
place where Isaiah uttered his lofty predictions, and hallowed 
as the scene w^here Jesus first unfolded the mysteries of 
redemption ; there is still a destiny for that land, in the 
womb of the future, far more resplendent with the awful and 
visible glories of Deity, than its past history has yet furnished ; 
for there shall the Son of God reappear in His glorified 
humanity, and with all the investitures of universal royalty, 
reign over '' the ransomed of the Lord, who shall come to 
Mount Zion with songs of deliverance and everlasting joy 
upon their heads." For whether the reign of a thousand 
years be regarded as literal or spiritual, there can be but one 
opinion among believers in the truth of prophecy, as to the 
37 



434 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

conversion of the Jews to Christianity, and their restoration 
to their lost nationality. But fondly as we now linger in 
thought around those scenes rendered illustrious as the 
theatre of those amazing transactions which involved the 
redemption of the w^orld, and delightful as are the anticipated, 
because prophetic glories which shall yet kindle upon the 
hills of Palestine, and shed their effulgence over the reno- 
vated earth; those graves which hold our kindred dust, 
should inspire a yet deeper interest, since the same God has 
promised that the glory of immortality shall kindle in those 
dark mansions, and go out upon an eternity radiant wuth the 
blessings of everlasting life. And those w^ho admit the fact, 
that these houses of clay which are dissolved by death, shall 
be rebuilt, and those bodies raised and glorified shall bend 
in solemn worship before King Emmanuel, will not deem it 
a superfluous work, nor regard it an irksome task, to care 
for, and beautify, the sepulchres of their departed. 

But to render this part of the discussion more formal and, 
if possible, more conclusive, I would urge the propriety and 
duty of making the places where our beloved ones repose 
attractive, and secure them from desecrating intrusions, 
by considerations such as the following. 

First, let us examine the relation which they sustain to us. 
They were either venerable parents, beloved companions, 
friends, or our own offspring. If parents, then, as children, 
we are under solemn obligations to cherish their memory, and 
to protect their ashes. They gave us existence, so that our 
physical, intellectual, and to some extent our moral constitu- 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 435 

tions, were immediately transmitted to us by them, as the 
instruments of God. They watched over our helpless 
infancy, and provided for all our natural and spiritual wants. 
They taught us to know and to love God, and dedicated us 
to His service. They conducted our infant feet to fountains 
of knowledge, and opened to our wondering gaze mines of 
intellectual w^ealth. They afforded us opportunities, and pro- 
vided for us the means to store our minds with valuable 
acquisitions. And convinced that an educated intellect, 
freighted wdth the lore of ages, and clothed in the royal 
robes of wisdom, but urged onward by the impulses of 
natural corruption, almost invariably blights and desolates 
all that comes within the range of its tremendous and fear- 
ful energy, while he whose mind and heart are alike tutored 
and brought under the moulding and sanctifying power of 
the Holy Spirit, will be fitted to cultivate and keep the para- 
dise which may be committed to his trust ; they labored by 
prayer, exhortation, and example, to possess us with that 
intellectual and moral furniture necessary to our personal 
happiness, and which would fit us to become benefactors of 
our race. If, therefore, there is any fruit of excellence in 
our lives, any energy of character, amiableness of disposition, 
or devotion to good — any of those exalted characteristics 
which qualify us for the noble functions of social beings, and 
rank us among the successful, the honored, and useful 
of mankind, we should regard all these as a legitimate 
inheritance from our parents. Their hands planted the seed 
of every excellence which may adorn our character; and 



436 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

when those seeds had germinated under the quickening 
power of the Spirit w^on down upon us by their supplications, 
they formed that atmosphere of purity, and sustained about 
us that element of Divine life, which are absolutely essential 
to crown the springing plants of grace with maturity, and to 
beautify them with lasting glory. And in connection with 
such reflections, we should also consider with what a wealth 
of love they cherished us. The fountains of parental affec- 
tion have depths which no one has ever yet been able to 
fathom. And behold how, under the force of that love, they 
toiled long and laboriously, while they fervently prayed and 
anxiously watched for our good. These considerations are 
in themselves amply sufficient to induce a watchful care, and 
to create a profound respect for the ashes of our fathers and 
mothers w^ho have gone down " into the house appointed for 
all the living." 

But a higher authority may be brought forward, and more 
urgent reasons assigned, to establish this point. The first 
commandment with promise is, '' Honor thy father and thy 
mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the 
Lord thy God giveth thee." This command does not simply 
require a respectful obedience to the wishes of parents during 
our minority, and regard and protection when enfeebled by age, 
but honor when they are dead. And do we not frequently 
witness the visible fulfilment of the promise annexed to that 
command in the distinguished blessings with w^hich a 
covenant-keeping God crowns the lives and labors of those 
w^ho honor their parents? And who does not commend the 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 437 

spirit of those children who rear such memorials to 
those " who nourished and brought them up," as their 
circumstances will admit, and inscribe upon them affec- 
tionate remembrances of their worth. And if the monument 
be ever so simple, boasting of nothing but natural affection, 
this itself will impart to it a far higher value than art or aught 
else could bestow w^here love had been wanting. 

A gentleman relates the following touching dialogue which 
passed between himself and three children in a village grave- 
yard. '' A boy of about ten years of age was busily engaged 
in placing sods of turf about a newly-made grave, while a girl, 
a year or two younger, held in her apron a few roots of wild 
flowers. The third child, still younger, w^as sitting on the 
grass w^atching with thoughtful look the movements of the 
other two. The girl soon commenced planting some of her 
wild flowers around the head of the grave, when the stranger 
addressed them : 

'' ' Whose grave is this, children, about w^hich you are so 
busily engaged ?' 

" ' Mother's grave, sir,' replied the boy. 

'^ ' And did your father send you to plant these flowers 
around your mother's grave?' 

"'No, sir; father lies here, too, and little WilHam, and 
sister Jane. 

" ' Then who told you to do this ?' 

'' ' Nobody, sir,' replied the girl. 

" ' Then why do you do it ?' •^ 

" ' Oh, we do love them, sir.' 
37^ 



438 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

'' ' Then you put these grass turfs and wild flowers where 
your parents are laid because you love them ?' 

'' ' Yes, sir,' they all replied." 

This beautiful exhibition of children honoring their 
deceased parents shows that it is possible for all to place 
some memorial of affection upon the graves of those they 
love ; if nothing else, we can plant a wild flower, that it may 
bloom there, or a tree, in whose branches the fowls of 
heaven may warble carols over our venerated dead. 

But if they are the bosom friends, the companions of our life, 
a w^ife or a husband, that we mourn, then affection prompts 
us, and the remembrance of plighted faith, and a still existing 
spirit-union enjoin a proper care for the places of their repose. 
The adorning of their sepulchres alleviates our grief, and 
soothes the wounded heart. It also ministers gratification 
and comfort to the bereaved when they know that the 
embellishments of the grave of their beloved arrest the 
attention of the stranger, and cause him to pause and learn 
the name of one who shared so largely in the love of others; 
and his ascending sighs assure us that his sympathies have 
been enlisted in behalf of the parties who once rejoiced in 
such wealth of affection as is unfolded in memorials to the 
departed. 

And equally strong is that bond of union which united us 
to those httle ones who were once the light and joy of our 
home-circles, but who, like fragrant blossoms, soon dropped 
into the grave. And what offering would a devoted heart 
withhold from a beloved child? Who would not place some 



GRAVE- YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 439 

symbol of affection or innocence on the little grave. Let the 
heartless, the cold and calculating worlding, whose sympathies 
are with his gold, or the unsubdued and unafflicted skeptic, 
sneer and ask his silly question, " to what is this waste upon 
mouldering dust?" fool! what does he know of holy love, 
of a broken heart, or a desolated soul ? Let those who are 
destitute of the finer sensibilities of our nature, and who 
are vulgarly gross in their feelings, ridicule the devotion of 
fond natures — w^e thank those children, those widowed com- 
panions, and those bereaved parents, for beautifying the 
sepulchres of their departed. Against expenditures in honor 
of the dead, heaven has uttered no prohibitions, and 
earth is not injured, but benefited, by them. All those 
beautiful emblems which adorn the many tombs around 
which we have lingered, and all those affectionate records 
upon them, have always assured us that we are in a w^orld of 
w^arm and loving hearts. Were it possible, we w^ould write 
every excellence, paint every feature, and breathe all the 
animation of the painter's pencil and the sculptor's chisel 
upon the memorial reared to our beloved. 

And such is not the feeling; of an individual or of an ao:e, 
but a sentiment as wide-spread and universal as our human- 
ity has extended. Nations of the highest antiquity laid out 
their skill in adorning the sepulchres of their friends, whether 
they moved in humble or exalted life. The labors of Lay- 
ard among the ruins of Nineveh have brought under the 
inspection of mankind many interesting specimens of ancient 
sculpture, w^hich corroborate the truth of this statement. 



440 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

The Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, and indeed all nations, 
have acted in this from a common impulse ; and by 
their example sanctioned the custom, and thus established 
the fact that the dictates of Nature lead us to honor the dead, 
so that the relation which we sustained to those we loved 
rises into the dignity of a law, w^hich makes it our duty to 
care for the sepulchres of our departed. 

The lessons of religion also inculcate the duty which we 
have been endeavoring to enforce. It was the custom among 
the Jew^s to provide imposing and expensive funeral 
obsequies for their deceased, and to rear attractive monu- 
ments at the public cost to those citizens that were 
distinsfuished in their commonwealth either in civil or eccle- 
siastical life. And while the state showed becoming respect 
to men of eminent worth, individuals frequently prepared 
cosdy tombs for themselves and families w^hile they w^ere yet 
living. Although this w^as the practice for many genera- 
tions, yea, for centuries, God, who never failed through His 
prophets to reprove them for whatever wrong they committed, 
never uttered a word of disapprobation against this custom ; 
and it is, therefore, our privilege to claim for it the Divine 
sanction. Instead of being attended with any deleterious 
consequences, it is fraught with many blessings, since it can- 
not fail to exert a highly beneficial influence upon society. 
Such honor and respect shown to the dead often give birth 
to noble purposes and to exalted determinations in the minds 
of the rising generation. When a youth reads the excellen- 
cies of the departed chronicled upon the marble, and hears 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 441 

men recount the worth of a public or private citizen, this 
very act may implant the germ of future greatness and of 
honorable distinction. For a great idea or a high resolve 
carries within itself an inspiration that will wake all the 
powers of the soul into sublime activity ; so that those hidden 
energies which would have slumbered on, had not some out- 
ward circumstance given birth to that thought, are destined 
to unfold in large benefits to the world, and in brilliant 
honors to the individual. Thus the interests of patriot- 
ism, of philanthropy, and of religion, are subserved and 
advanced by those adornments of the sepulchre which con- 
tracted and selfish natures pronounce extravagant or man- 
worship. And in like manner are all the social and family 
feelings strengthened and beautified, and human nature 
improved in all that ennobles man by attention to the graves 
of the departed. 

Would you then fill your country with patriots and citizens 
who wdll lay their best energies and talents upon the altar of 
their country, and if need be, pour out their blood at the 
shrines of freedom as an oblation to their country's glory ? 
Would you draw from the seclusions of private life, men of 
noble endowments, of undoubted integrity, and true to the 
interests of the country, into legislative halls, into the Senate, 
the Cabinet, and the chair of State? Then suflfer not ingrati- 
tude and forgetfulness to mark your actions in relation to 
those who have discharged with ability and fidelity, the high 
functions of those stations in civil life. A great intellect is 
conscious of its birthright to immortality. And while its 



442 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

mighty energies are marshalled to arduous toil, its exertions 
are pleasant, and its results great in proportion as its labors 
are appreciated. To toil uncheered, and to be doomed to 
neglect and forgetfulness as soon as we are dead, would be 
reflections in themselves sufficiently potent to quench the 
ardor, and to paralyze the intellectual machinery of the great- 
est mind in whose eye there flames not yet an immortal 
crown. And although the Christian may labor with success, 
and with some degree of cheerfulness, when he enjoys the 
approbation of his conscience, and the favor of his God, yet 
is he greatly aided, and his labors wonderfully facilitated, by 
the approving smiles of those who appreciate his efforts for 
the good of mankind. No mind is injured by a just appre- 
ciation of its exertions. for the public good; but it may be 
bound with leaden manacles by cold neglect. What other 
man would submit to such trials and privations as those of 
Washington, were the Father of our country now unhonored 
and ansung? And whatever be the force of those higher 
motives which heaven inspires — whatever amount of po- 
tency they may have acquired in the Christian's mind, he 
is still human, and although he seeks not for empty applause, 
yet is he cheered and stimulated to still greater efforts, by 
the gratitude and love of those for whose good he toils. 
Would Howard have traveled over kingdoms, and visited all 
the foul prisons they contained, had those prisoners whom he 
befriended in the first few instances, cast on him sullen looks, 
spurned his proffered consolations, and turned from him with 
a scowl upon their countenance, and curses upon their lips? 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 443 

Ah! it was because their stem features were relaxed and 
glow^ed with joy, and their eyes flowed with tears of gratitude, 
that he did fly on swift w^ing, that he might carry his 
consolations to others who were wretched. And w-ho can 
doubt that his eminent success with the guilty and wretched, 
and the charm^s of that music which issued from contrite hearts, 
won not only his life and fortune to that work of benevolence, 
but induced many others to follow in his footsteps. It is 
because his efforts were appreciated, and his memory is 
honored, that many others, from no higher impulses than 
those of humanity, have chosen for themselves a similar 
vocation, and become a blessing to thousands of our race. 
And the principle loses none of its force when brought from 
public into private life. A want of respect for the dead, and 
a total disregard for the places of their repose, w^ould exert a 
debasing influence upon society. It would throw a blight 
over all the relations of life, and weaken, if not utterly 
destroy, every tie of affection. Treat the remains of the 
departed with neglect, suffer the enclosure w^here you 
have deposited their ashes to be overgrown with weeds, and 
the walls broken down, and you wull place man, after the 
vital spark has fled, upon the same basis which the inferior 
animals occupy. It would assuredly degrade and brutalize 
the feelings of society, did such a custom universally prevail. 
It would diminish the affection between parents and children, 
for if the grave be a terminus at which all fond remem- 
brance ceases, then the bond which unites them loses its 



444 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

spirituality, and becomes altogether earthly, and partakes of 
that weakness, and finally of that death, which is common to 
all earthly things. But let grave-yards and cemeteries be 
kept in good condition and improved ; let veneration for 
such places become an element in the home education of our 
offspring, and let it be an object on the part of their instruc- 
tors on all suitable occasions, to inspire them with respect for 
the departed, and the happy effect of such discipline and 
instruction will be manifest in the tastefully decorated tombs 
of their deceased friends, and also in the elevating and refi- 
ning tendency upon their entire character. For we hold it 
to be a truth which cannot be successfully controverted, that 
if children are taught to gather flowers wdth their own little 
hands, and weave garlands for the graves of their sainted 
ones, this very act will awaken thoughts which will reach 
to heaven, and produce such conversation as will embrace 
in its topics that which is fitted above all things else, to 
expand and purify the mind ; and what is equally important, 
is, that the heart under such culture will be prepared for the 
reception of those lessons of Christianity, which are to trans- 
form it into the image of Christ, and at last conduct it to 
everlasting life. 

The condition of a grave-yard is, generally speaking, a 
very good index of the character of the community in which 
it is located. And, if here I might suggest a lesson of advice, 
I would say, have a care about your confidence, and interest, 
and reputation among a people where you witness an air of 
negligence and desolation overspreading the sacred enclosure 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES, 445 

where their departed repose. Be assured that no pure affec- 
tions, no generous friendships, and no lofty principles are 
enthroned in hearts whose sympathies are not embodied in 
fitting memorials of the dead. They may affect to love you, 
and profess a high esteem, as long as caprice or policy may 
dictate ; but they will cast you off as they would a worthless 
garment, when their own selfish ends can no longer be sub- 
served by your presence. Butterflies are never seen in the 
storm ; and those who profess friendship for the living, and 
yet neglect the dead, will prove false in the hour of 
dark adversity. Has that young man who is within an hour 
of a mother's grave, shed no tears there for months or years ? 
Be not surprised if you should discover improprieties in his 
conduct, nor amazed if he should become a heartless and 
neglectful husband. Hearts that are worthy of the wealth of 
true affection, are those whose vibrations extend into the 
graves of their departed. 

And if a church-yard be an exponent of the character of 
the people in whose midst it is found, so is it also a standard 
of their piety. That fine monuments may be constructed 
and appropriate sentiments may be inscribed upon them, by 
those who have no experimental knowledge of salvation, is 
unquestionably true ; but it is an exception, rather than a 
rule. For we doubt not, that even those not professedly 
pious who exhibit their regard for lost friends, are often 
conscious of deep exercises of soul, and feel all the 
strugglings of new-born desires in their hearts, which they 
earnestly hope will issue in the regeneration of their nature, 
38 



446 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

And even where such manifestations rise no higher than the 
human, they still afibrd us the pleasing conviction that their 
authors are susceptible of good impressions, because they are 
the subjects of noble impulses. If even the motives of 
some could not be commended, this does by no means im- 
pair the correctness of the assertion, that the aspect of the 
grave-yard aflbrds a pretty accurate idea of the religious 
sentiment of the community. Christianity has consecrated 
the ashes of saints, not, indeed, in such a sense as to entitle 
the departed to religious homage, or to justify any transactions 
of this nature ; but so as to cause them to be reverenced in 
such a manner as to secure them from neglect. An intimate 
acquaintance with individuals who exhibited no interest in 
those who had fallen asleep in Jesus, has not unfreqnently 
left the conviction on the mind, that their piety w^as as 
cheerless and unattractive as those places where their departed 
reposed, and w^here grew the thorn, the nightshade, and the 
thistle in wild luxuriance. Believe it, believe it, the religion 
of heaven humanizes and sanctifies, while it is as diffusive as 
the leaven, and will work its way into all the actions of 
the individual in whose heart it has found a lodg- 
ment. As the leaven operates silently, while it irresist- 
ibly assimilates the meal to its own nature ; thus piety has a 
silent influence, which acts and speaks far more impressively 
than all the professions of the lip. And if anywhere, it is 
visible in its beautifying effects, in its hopeful teachings, and 
its glorious intimations ; it is in those manifestations of 
symbols and flowers, and an air of loveliness, w^hich it gives 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 447 

to the whole aspect of the sepulchres of the departed in a 
truly Christian community. 

But there is another, and as I think, a much higher con- 
sideration, which demands the recognition and discharge of 
the duty which has been urged upon the living. I mean the 
connexion which exists between believers and Christ. The 
body of the saint is no longer common dust. It is no more 
human nature totally degenerate and corrupt ; but human 
nature regenerated, sanctified, and exalted into living union 
with Jesus Christ. Leaving out of view any change or 
advantage which may have been imparted to humanity as a 
unit, by the incarnation of the Son of God, the nature of the 
Christian holds a vital relation to the great Redeemer. This 
is a necessary result from the intimate union which exists 
between the body and the soul. The temple is sanctified 
through the indwelling and pervading influences of the Holy 
Spirit. Through faith the soul is restored to the favor of God, 
and brought into fellowship with Christ. Or as Paul says, 
the believer is engrafted upon Christ as the living stem, and 
flourishes from the out-flows of grace which proceed from 
Him, who is the author and finisher of our faith. Hence the 
expressions which indicate " Christ as our life," as living in 
Christ, and He in us, and as living by faith on the Son of 
God. The Redeemer Himself has told us, ^' I am the vine, 
ye are the branches; abide in me, and I in you." "If ye 
abide in me, ye shall bear much fruit." And in like manner 
do many of the Apostolic exhortations run. " Brethren, I 
beseech you by the mercies of God, that ye present your 



448 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God 
which is your reasonable service." And so, also, does the 
Apostle pray. " Wherefore I pray God, that He may sanctify 
your whole body, and soul, and spirit." The same idea 
is substantially conveyed in those discourses where he speaks 
of the members of the believers' body, as instruments of 
righteousness. The Christian is uniformly represented as a 
member of Christ's mystical body, and holds the same relation 
to Him as any one member of the human frame holds to the 
body entire. And that there is a sanctifying influence exerted 
upon the physical man, admits of no doubt. It could not be 
otherwise, for we might as w^ell attempt to show that it is 
possible for a living member of our body not to be visited 
\vith the flows of life from our hearts, as to maintain that the 
physical nature of man is not animated with the influence of 
divine grace. For the blood does not more thoroughly 
circulate through all our mysterious framework, and through 
all the members of the body, than the hallowed powder of the 
life of Christ in the believer pervades the entire man. This 
is very forcibly expressed in that passage of the Apostle 
where he says — ^' Ye are the temple of the Holy Ghost." 
The body is that temple in which the awful presence of the 
Godhead is manifested. The Lord Jesus assured His disci- 
ples that He and the Father would come, and with the Spirit 
make their abode in them. Thus saith the High and Lofty 
One who inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy ; I dwell 
in the high and holy place ; also with him who is of an 
humble heart, and a contrite spirit." Now it is in virtue of 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 449 

this- union with Jesus Christ, who, by his incarnation, death, 
and resurrection, has not only purchased for our souls the 
blessings of a glorious immortality, but has also given us 
assurance that our bodies shall be raised from the grave, and 
participate in the blessed realities of eternal life. This temple 
of the Holy Ghost is doomed to fall into a heap of ruins ; but 
however long it may lie in that condition, it is still in unison 
with Him who will one day reconstruct and invest it 
with a more gorgeous glory than when first reared out 
of the dust, and impart an indestructibility to its proper- 
ties that will make it coexistent with the immortality of the 
soul. '' It were a light spirit which should not be overawed 
amid the ruins of a temple, which should recognize nothing 
solemn in the mouldering pile which it knew had once cano- 
pied the more immediate presence of God, especially if it 
further knew, that on some approaching day the ruins would 
be reinstated in symmetry and strength, forming again a struc- 
ture whose walls should be instinct with Deity, and from 
whose recesses as from awful shrines should issue the voice 
of the Eternal. The dead body is that fallen temple which 
was consecrated on earth as the habitation of the Holy Ghost ; 
it decays only that it may be more gloriously rebuilt, and that 
God may dwell in it forever above. Therefore, it is no slight 
impiety to show contempt or neglect of the dead." Such is 
the eloquent language of a great and good man who had just 
conceptions of the dignity of the human body. O ! it is not 
a spirit of pride or vain ostentation that we would call into 
being and foster, by pleading for the departed, and by appro- 
38* 



450 GKAVE-YAKDS AND CEMETERIES. 

priately adorning the places where we have laid our beloved ; 
but to awaken and strengthen those Christian sentiments and 
those sublime hopes which invest with the sanctity of heaven, 
the abodes of the dead. For the tomb of the Christian should 
not be so much regarded as the ^' house of corruption and of 
worms/' as the refining crucible which shall yield up the 
glorified form, all glowing with the lustre of a blessed immor- 
tality. For that body, like a seed, carries with it into the 
tomb, a germ which will be waked into immortal life and 
beauty by the light of the resurrection morn. 

The twelfth and thirteenth centuries were distinguished 
for those protracted and bloody wars carried on between the 
Christians and the Infidels, w^ho were contending for the 
possession of the Holy Land which contained the Sepulchre 
in w^hich the Lord Jesus had lain. It v^as customary in that 
age to make pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre, and it being 
in the possession of the Mahomedan power, those individuals 
who, under the influences of a mistaken piety felt it to be 
their duty to visit, at least once in their life-time, the tomb 
of Jesus, W'Cre often molested and even murdered by the 
hostile power. This, in connexion with other circumstances, 
led to those long and fearful conflicts w^hich are familiarly 
known as the Crusades. And such is the importance which 
those of a corrupted Christianity attach to relics and sacred 
places, that even quite recently the Holy Sepulchre was the 
theme of diplomatic discussions, and has, or is, destined to 
enter into the treaties of some of the European powers. 
There is, unquestionably, a vast deal of superstition mixed 



GRAVE-YAKDS AND CEMETERIES. 451 

with those proceedings, forasmuch as there is no absolute 
certainty as to the precise locahty of that sepulchre in which 
our Lord was laid by the pious Arimathean, and even if this 
were certain, that body which reposed there for a few days, 
is now at the right hand of the Father. But if that tomb 
w^ere definitely know^n, would not thousands against whom 
the charge of superstition could not lie with any force visit it ? 
Or if it were accessible to us, who w^ould not regard it as a 
great happiness to weave garlands of flowers w-ith w'hich to 
adorn the enclosure that was once honored as the abode of 
the pierced body of our exalted Redeemer? Ah! yes, we 
w^ould cherish the spot as a holy shrine, and lay out our skill 
to clothe it wuth beautiful decorations, and lavish upon it 
offerings of our gratitude. But our glorious Saviour has left 
us His solemn declaration — ^' Whatsoever ye do to one of 
the least of these ray brethren, ye do unto me." The dust 
of His saints is as precious to Him as His ow^n body ; for it 
is instinct with His life. His sleepless eye is ever upon it. 
His Providence guards and defends it until the dawn of that 
day when He shall recall it to life, and clothe it w^ith glory. 
That dust is far more precious in the eyes of the Lord, than 
all the gold and gems on earth, and, therefore, honor and 
respect show^n to those who sleep in Jesus by beautifying the 
places of their repose^ is rendering honor to the Redeemer. 
It is, therefore, in view of the estimate which Christ sets upon 
the bodies of His people, and the promised and magnificent 
destiny that awaits then, that we urge the duty of bestowing 
proper attention upon those places where the " trump of the 



452 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

archangel will cause a stirring of life, and Christ shall win 
new triumphs as the resurrection and the life." Let us, then, 
ornament those holy scenes where our kindred repose, wdth 
emblems of fond remembrance, and with tokens of that 
glorious hope which will terminate amid the grandeurs of a 
blissful eternity. 

As a further legitimate proof of the propriety of caring for 
the dead, I may also cite the example of the early Christians. 
The customs of those upon whom the light of Apostolic ages 
shone, are invested wdth a sacredness which usually secures 
for them a high degree of respect ; so that they are departed 
from, by those of like faith, only when the w^eightiest con- 
siderations demand it. Ecclesiastical historians inform us that 
the apostate Julian commended the early Christians for the 
care which they bestowed upon the dead, and for the manner 
in which they cherished them. Writers of the third and 
fourth centuries inform us that they adopted the custom of the 
Jews and Romans in the erection of monuments to their 
departed. During those periods when the fires of persecution 
raged most violently, they were excluded from the public 
burying grounds, and, therefore, forced to dispose of these 
who died in the most secret manner. To escape the notice 
of their enemies, and to secure their departed from being 
disturbed, they constructed their sepulchres under ground. 
"By far the greater number," says a writer on Christian 
Antiquities, " of primitive Christians w^ere buried in subterra- 
nean sepulchres." "These served at once as their home 
and their burying-place ; and, as it was natural that they 



GRAVE-YARDS xlND CEMETERIES. 453 

should wish to have the bodies of their departed brethren 
conveyed to the same peaceful and inviolable sanctuaries, it 
became first from necessity, and afterwards from choice, the 
approved and invariable practice to deposit their dead in 
deep and obscure caverns. Among the monuments of 
Christian antiquity, none are more singular than these abodes 
of the dead ; and one feels at a loss whether most to admire 
their prodigious extent, the laborious industry that provided 
them, or the interesting recollections with which they are 
associated. Like the Moorish caves in Spain, they were 
generally excavated at the base of a hill, and the entrance so 
carefully concealed that no aperture appeared, and no traces 
were discernible, except by an experienced eye, of the ground 
having been penetrated, and of the vast dungeons that had 
been hollowed underneath." But after the cessation of those 
fiery trials through w^hich the Church had fought her way, 
when Christianity had gained the ascendency over Paganism, 
and become the dominant religion in the Roman empire, they 
fitted up and consecrated suitable places for this purpose 
around their churches. And at a still later period the custom 
of burying distinguished personages within the walls of the 
church w^as established. That they bestow^ed great care 
upon the tombs of their departed, and w^ere accustomed to 
embellish their grave-yards and erect costly monuments, is 
evident from the reproofs which some of the clergy of that age 
administered in several instances, where these things were 
carried to a degree inconsistent with the spirit of their religion. 
But while Chrysostom and several other Fathers rebuked the 



454 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

extent to which the decorations of those places were carried, 
they never condemned the erection of appropriate memorials, 
or the practice of showing other becoming honors to the 
dead. 

And finally another reason why the fitting up of 
cemeteries and the adorning of grave-yards should be 
encouraged, is that drawn from the influence w^hich these 
things will exert upon the living. If these places are skil- 
fully laid out, and the graves adorned in a tasteful and ap- 
propriate manner, their cheerful aspect will divest death and 
the tomb of a vast deal of that terror which is naturally 
associated with them. There is something dark and forbid- 
ding about the dissolution of the soul and body, w^hich causes 
human nature to shrink instinctively from it. Death 
is spoken of as the King of Terrors, and as a ruthless and 
inexorable conqueror ; so that when sickness comes with its 
w^asting power, and hope of recovery flies, man dreads the 
approaching but inevitable moment when he must be brought 
into immediate conflict with him. Ay, it is a solemn moment 
when he steps into our path, and confronting us, bids us 
surrender our breath. And yet it is not so much death itself 
as that which is to follow, that makes men reluctant to die. 
Not to dwell upon those solemn realities into which the 
soul is about to enter as fitted to inspire us with profound 
solemnity, if not with dread, there are things this side the 
circle of the eternal world which have their share in producing 
this reluctance to depart. Among these is that forget- 
fulness and gloom which are so frequently associated with 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 455 

the grave. To lie alone in the earth — to slumber on in the 
darksome tomb — to have none to come near and drop a tear 
of affection, or plant a flower — to moulder silently back to 
dust, and have briars and thorns grow upon my bosom, and 
be trampled underneath the foot of the unconscious brute — 
ah ! these thoughts and associations in connection with death, 
are calculated to cloud the mind and to trouble the heart ; 
and they are common where no Christian care is bestow^ed 
upon the mansions of the dead. But we may throw a more 
cheerful aspect over that solemn event which will sooner or 
later terminate our earthly pilgrimage. And since death has 
become a tremendous necessity, we should employ our skill 
to clothe it with all the light, and all those softening aspects 
which lie within the ability of the mind to command, that we 
may divest it of all that is appalling to the soul. There are 
a number of evils connected with our removal to eternity, for 
all of which, Christianity furnishes an antidote. We are 
required to leave many things which we value, and many 
objects which w^e love, and this would make death a mourn- 
ful event, did not the religion of Christ enrich us wdth hopes 
of far greater and nobler blessings. We must surrender 
those pleasures which we derive from social intercourse with 
those to whom we are intimately and fondly united ; but 
we pass from the society of earth to mingle wdth the perfected 
and glorified in heaven. And if we lack natural fortitude to 
go down into the dark valley alone, w^e are furnished with 
the needful grace for our final journey if we make application 
to Him ^' w^ho loved us, and gave Himself for us." Leanino- 



456 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

upon the strong staff of His promises, and enjoying His 
gracious presence, we shall fear no evil. Being thus 
fortified against all the painful incidents connected with death, 
the Christian is perfectly reconciled to the change which he 
must undergo. And if, in addition to these Divine influences, 
we adorn the resting-places of the departed in such a manner 
as to render them attractive, and so as to clothe them with an 
air of cheerfulness ; the tomb is no longer an object of horror, 
but becomes a pleasant and delightful retreat for those who 
have grown weary in life's pilgrimage. Who that has 
a mind given to meditation, and has visited such places as 
Auburn, Greenwood, Laurel Hill, and other cemeteries, has 
not derived pleasure and profit from a walk through those 
charming abodes of the dead? Ay, are not the associations 
of such an agreeable character, that the weary and worn 
would be w^illing to lie down beneath that branching cypress 
or fir, and return no more to the clashing and fitful scenes of 
a busy world ? O ! is there not a charm, which even reconciles 
us to present trials, in the hope that we shall some day repose 
peacefully within that sweet enclosure, where those whom we 
love have been laid ? Any of the w^eary w^anderers of earth 
might count it a rich inheritance, if they had assurance, that 
when their earthly house is dissolved, their remains should 
sleep on the green and shady Laurel Hill where the may- 
flower blooms — hard by those rocks where the swallow 
builds her nest, and beneath those trees w^here the robin 
hymns her matins and vespers, while the gentle Schuylkill 
murmurs a requiem to the dead, and images to the living. 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 457 

the flowing current of time, which is bearing us all onward 
to the bosom of eternity. Sweet abode of the dead, 
may those who formed thee find a Paradise for the 
repose of their spirits, even more beautiful than all thy monu- 
ments, emblems, flowers, and river are fitted to image to the 
soul. 

And if like skill and taste were expended in adorning our 
church-yards, how much more elevated, refined, and holy 
would be the feelings and sentiments of those who worship 
the living God, hard by the sepulchres of their departed! If 
those enclosures were of proper magnitude, and arranged ia 
such a manner as to afford a little retiracy from the crowd ; 
if they had shaded walks and some humble seats along those 
graves where the aged and the young sleep together, ! what 
lessons might be learned there, by those who reach the 
place of worship some time previous to the hour of service. 
Would not a short time spent in meditation around the 
beautified graves of departed ones, be eminently fitted to 
prepare the mind profitably to engage in the worship of 
Almighty God? An exercise of this description would 
assuredly be suggestive of many and valuable reflections. 
It would bring the mind at once into communion w^ith 
heaven ; forasmuch as the transition of thought from those 
lowly mansions, to those which are on high, is as natural as 
it is pleasant. Here repose their bodies; yonder in that 
world of light and glory, their souls. And all those virtues 
w^ith which their characters w^ere jew^eled, all that endeared 
them to us, and gave them favor w^ith God and with man, 
39 



458 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

will rise vividly before the mind, and urge us to the attain- 
ment of like excellence, while it would greatly encourage us 
to follow in the footsteps of those, '^ who through faith and 
patience inherited the promises," and have entered their rest. 
Thus we would call into existence, an influence counter 
to that which the ill-conditioned and neglected grave-yard 
now exerts upon the mind ; an influence potent to inspire us 
with a holy desire to depart and be with Christ and His holy 
ones. And instead of clinging to earth, and shrinking from 
death, and dreading the coming of the Son of Man, the cry 
would burst from many hearts, Hasten ! hasten thy chariots, 
O God of our salvation! Or if the desire to enjoy those 
peaceful slumbers and future glories should be less ardent in 
the minds of some, it would at least fill them with resignation 
to the Divine will, and enable them to enter fully into the 
sentiment so beautifully expressed in the hymn of the sainted 
Muhlenberg. 

** I would not live alway ; I ask not to stay, 
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way ; 
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here, 
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer. 
I would not live alway ; no — welcome the tomb. 
Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom ; 
There sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise. 
To hail him in triumph-^^escending the skies. 
Who ? Who ? would live alway, away from his God ; 
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode. 
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains, 
And the noontide of glory eternajly reigns ? 
Where the saimts of all ages in harmony meet, 
Their Saviour and brethren, transported to greet; 
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, 
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul." 



GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 459 

r 

I might urge yet other considerations to establish more 
firmly the proposition advanced and supported, but the sub- 
ject is one which commends itself to the judgment of noble 
and good men, while it will, we trust, successfully plead its 
own cause with all hearts which are the home of generous 
friendships, of pious tendencies, and of holy remembrances. 
There can be no expenditure of labor, or of means, w^hich 
will more richly compensate mankind, than that which is 
bestowed upon the sepulchres of our departed. For attractive 
and beautiful grave-yards and cemeteries w^ill assist our 
piety, promote the refinement and elevation of society, while 
their influence is favorable to the exaltation of all the faculties 
of the soul. Their quiet, and peace, and beauty, give 
birth to another and spiritual law, which attracts as strongly 
as that of our mortality, but which, unlike that, leads us to 
the grave, that it may conduct us to glory. And, therefore, 
instead of clothing the city of the dead with gloomy asso- 
ciations, it may become to us a Paradise, w^here all those 
emblems and sentiments of hope and of glory, will one day 
glow in living immortal realizations. May God attend 
with His blessing w^hatever is contained in these pages 
consonant with His word, and in harmony with His will. 
May it be the pleasure of the Lord to smile upon this 
effort to create a healthful religious sentiment of respect and 
veneration' for those who can no longer plead their own 
cause, save in those silent but plaintive utterances which rise 
from their neglected abodes, and which have prompted the 
author of these pages to proclaim a message from them, in 



460 GRAVE-YARDS AND CEMETERIES. 

the ears of the living. And may He whose sleepless care 
presides over all the works of His hand, encircle us with 
His protecting power ; that, encompassed by His attributes, 
and dwelling in the secret places of the most High, we may 
fear no evil ; and thus when calamities darken our sky, and 
streams of earthly comfort forget to flow, we may find God our 
refuge and Rock, and our Spring of joy flowing fresh and full 
from His unfathomable nature, to gladden us on our pilgrim- 
age through this " dry and thirsty land." 0! Thou merciful 
One, let Thy gracious Providence attend us through all our 
wanderings, and support us to the end of our days; and 
w^hen we lie down in the silent grave, may Thy sleepless 
eye, blessed Redeem.er, watch our dust, and Thy Spirit move 
those, whose love and skill will not suffer a grave to lie 
neglected, or a grave-yard unadorned. And may it hence- 
forth, even until the resurrection morn, be spoken to the 
praise of all generations, that they venerate the dead, and 
care for the sepulchres of their departed. 



THE END. 



CUMMING'S WORKS. 



UNIFORM EDITION. 



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Or, Lectures on the Book or Revelation. One vol. 12mo. Cloth. 

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Or, Lectures on the Book of Daniel. One vol. 12mo, Cloth. 

Price 75 cts. per volume, and sent by mail, free of postage, upon receipt of 
this amount by the publishers. 



The Rev. John Gumming, D.D., is now the great pulpit orator of London, 
as Edward Irving was some twenty years since. But very different is the 
Doctor to that strange, wonderfully eloquent, but erratic man. There could 
not by possibility be a greater contrast. The one all fire, enthusiasm, and 
semi-madness ; the other a man of chastened energy sLnd convincing calmness. 
The one like a meteor, flashing across a troubled sky, and then vanishing 
suddenly in the darkness ; the other like a silver star, shining serenely, and 
illuminating our pathway with its steady ray. He is looked upon as the great 
champion of Protestantism in its purest form. His church is densely crowded 
by the most intellectual and thinking part of that crowded city, while his 
writings have reached a sale unequalled by those of any theological writer of 
the present day. His great work on the "Apocalypse," upon which his great 
reputation as a writer rests, having already reached its 15th edition in England, 
while his " Lectures on the Miracles," and those on " Daniel," have passed 
through six editions of 1000 copies each, and his " Lectures on the Parables" 
through four editions, all within a comparatively short time. 



LiNDSAY & BLAKiSTCN PUBLISH 

WATSON'S 
DICTIONARY OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS 

CONSISTING OF 

ELEGANT EXTRACTS ON EVERY SUBJECT, 

COMPILED FROM VARIOUS AUTHORS, AND ARRANGED UNDXa 

APTROPRIATE HEADS, 

BY JOHN T. WATSON, M. D., 

WITH 

NINE SPLENDID ILLUSTRATIONS ON STEEL. 

IxN-CLUDING- 



Tho Noontide Dream, 

Coiiteniplation, 

iModesty, 

Thu Tliundcr-Storm. 



The Villai^e Tomb-Cutter, 

Tlie Parting Wreath, 

Bereavement, 

The Bashful Lover, 



Love and Innocence. 



OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 



We may safeU' reconitneiid this book as a collection of some of the most beautiful conception* 
«legauLly expressed, to be found iii tlie raii^e of Eng^Iish and American poetry. — Saturday Conner 



We regard this as the best book of a similar character yet published.— Gcrman/OM?n Telegraph 



hi this Dictionary of Quotations every subject is touched upon; and, while the selection has beei 
iarefully made, it has the merit of conlaming the best thoughts of the Poets of our own day, which 
tto other collection has. — U. S. Gazette. 



The selections m this book are made with taste from all poets of note, and are classed under a 
^Teat variety of subjects. — Presbyterian. 

The Quotations appear to have been selected with great judgment and taste, by one well acquainted 
Vfiih whatever is most elegant nud beautiful in the whole range of Lterature.— C7im^2a7i Observer. 

A volume exhibitmg industry and taste on the part of the compiler, which will often facilitate !♦» 
Toarches in the mines of gold whence it was (ln%.—Maysv%lie Eagle. 



In his arrangement, the compiler has assigned the immortal Shakspeare his deserved pre-emiaence^ 
and illumined his pages with the choicest beauties of the British Poets.— /ftra/tZ. 

We do not hesitate to commend it to our poetry-loving readers, as a book worth buying, and wortk 
t9%Aiii^.— Clinton Republica7i. 

The extracts display great care and ta.ste on the part of the editor, are arranged in chronolo^3*l 
irdfr, anil embruce passages from all the poets, from the earliest periotl of our literature to the pre- 
mJ. iime.— Slate Gazette. 



This book will be read with intere.'st, as containing the best thou?hts of the best poets, and is con- 
/enicrX for reference, because furnishing appropriate quotations to illustrate a vast variety of subjecta. 
•~Old ColJfny McmuriaL 

W'c 'iew it as a nasket filled with the most precious gems of Iwirnin? and fancy, and so arraiife4 
a» tf) fiscinate, at a slam e, the delicate eye of taste. By referring to the index, which is arranged m 
alph.ibetical onler, you can find, in a moment, the bfst ideas of the most inspired poets of this couutfy 
as vrz\] as Eur oe, ur jn any desired sulyect.— C^ron/c/t. r 



LINDSAY &. BLAKISTON'S PUBLICATIONS. 

BETHUNE'S POEMS. 

LINDSAY & BLAKISTON PUBLISH, 

LAYS OF LOVE AND FAITH, 

WITH OTHER 

FUGITIVE POEMS. 

BY THE 

R E V . G . W . B E T II U N E , D . D. 

Thii itf an elegant Volume, beautifully printed on the finest and uhitOfi^ 

paper, and richly bound in various styles. 



As one ananges in a simple vase 

A little store of unpretending flowers, 

So gathered I some records of past houjs, 
And trust them, gentle reader, to thy grace. 
Nor hope that in my pages thou wilt trace 

The brilliant proof of high poetic powers; 
But dear memorials of happy da3's. 

When heaven slicd blessings on my heart like showen. 
Clothing with beauty e'en the desert place; 
Till I, with thankful gladness in my looks, 

Turned me to God, sweet nature, loving friends, 
Christ's little children, well-worn ancient books. 

The charm of Art, the rapture music sends; 
And sang away the grief that on man's lot attends. 



OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

We beg leave to express our thanks to the diligent author of these Poems, for thif 
additional and highly valuable contribution to the treasures of American literature. 
The prose writings of Dr. Bethune, by their remarkably pure and ehaste language, 
their depth and clearness of thought, their force and beauty of illustration, and by their 
intelligent and elevated pioty, have justly secured to him a place with the very beat 
authors of our land, whose works are destined to exert a wide-spread and most salutary 
influence on the f:)rming character and expanding mind of our growing republic. Thii 
voluipe of his collected poetry, though it be, as the author observes in his beautiful 
introductory' sonnet, but tlie "gathered records of past hours," or the fruit of moments 
of industrious relaxation from more severe labours, may without fear take its place by 
\he side of our best poetic productions; and there are many pieces in it, which, for 
accuracy of rhythm, for refined sentiment, energy of thought, flowing and lucid ex- 
pression, and S'.ibduing pathos, are unsurpassed by any writer. 

Exteriorly, and in the matters of paper and typography, this is an elegant volume, 
4nd so far is a fitting casket for the gems it contains — for gems these beautiful poems 
are, of "purest ray serene" — lustrous jewels — ornaments of purest virgin gold. 

Many hallowed breathings will be found among the poems here collected — all diFitin 
gui.sshed by correct taste and refined feeling, rarely dazzling by gorgeous imagery, but 
always charming by their purity and truthfulness to nature. — j^. Y. Commercial. 



The author of this volume has a gifted mind, improved by extensive education; a 
•Jieerfal temper, chastened by religion ; a sound taste, refined and improved by extensive 
observation and much reading, and the gift of poetry. — J^'orth American. 



The Volume before us contains much that is truly beautiful ; many gems *.hat sparkle 
with genius and feeling. They are imbued with the true spirit of poesy, and may Lr 
lead again and agair with pleasure.— /w^iitjrer. 



LINDSAY & BLAKISTON 

PUBLISH THE 

AMERICAN FEMALE POETS 

BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES, 

BY 
CAROLINE MAY. 

AN ELEGANT VOLUME, WITH A HANDSOME VIGNETTE TITLE, 

AND 

PORTRAIT OF MRS. OSGOOD. 

The Literary contents of this work contain copious selections fron 

the writings of i 

Anne Bradstreet, Jane Turcll, Ann© Eliza Bleecker, Margarettt^ 

V« Fangeres, Pliillis Wlieatiey, Mercy Warren, Sarali Porter j 

SaraU Wcntwortli Morton, Mrs. Little, Maria A, Brooks, 

Lydia Huntley Sigonrncy, Anna Maria "Wells, Caroline Gil* 

^nan, Sarali Joseplia Hale, Maria J^nies, Jessie Go M'Cartec, 

Mrs. Gray, Eliaa Follen, Loxiisa Jane Hall, Mrs. Swift, 

Mrs. E. C. Kinney, Marguerite St. Leon Loud, Luella J. 

Case, Elizaljetli Bogart, A. I>. Woodbridgc, ElizaTbetli 

Blargarct Cliandler, Emma C. Esnlbury, Sarali Helena 

^W^liitnistn, Cyntliia Taggart, Elizat>etli J. Eanies, 

<&c« &:^c% (S^c. 

The whole forming a beautiful specimen of the highly cultivated state ol 

the arts in the United States, as regards the paper, topography, 

and binding in rich and various styles. 

EXTRACTS FROM TPIE PREFACE. 
One of the most striking characteristics of the present age 
i the number of female writers, especially in the department 
-f belles-lettres. This is even more true of the United 
States, than of the old world ; and poetry, which is the lan- 
guage of the affections, has been freely employed among us 
to express the emotions of woman's heart. 

As the rare exotic, costly because of the distance from 
which it is brought, will often suffer in comparison of beauty 
and fragrance w^ith the abundant wild flowers of our mea- 
dows and woodland slopes, -so the reader of our present 
volume, if ruled by an honest taste, will discover in the efTu- 
sions of our gifted countrywomen as much grace of form, 
and powerful sweetness of thought and feeling, as in the 
blossoms of woman's genius culled from other lands. 



LINDSAY & BLAKISTON 

PUBLISH THE 

BRITISH FEMALE POETS: 

BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES, 

BY 
GEO. W. BETHUNE. 

kS ELEG-ANT VOLUME, WITH A HANDSOME VIGNETTE TITLBi 

AND 

PORTRAIT OF THE HON. MRS. NORTON. 

The Literary contents of this work contain copious selections from 

the writings of 

AlIiuc Boleyii, Countess of Arimclel, Q^iieeii Elizal>etli, Diiclicss ol 

Newcastle, Elizabetli Carter^ Mrs, Tiglie, Miss Ilaiiiiuli More^ 

JIrs* Hemans. t<ady Flora Hastings, Mrs. Amelia 0|>ie, Miss 

Eliza Coojc, Mrs. Soutliey, Miss LoAve, BIrs. Norton, Elizabetla 

B. Barrett, Catliariue Parr, Mary Q,ucen of Scots, Countess 

of Pen^broke, Lady Mary Wortley Monta^xie, Mrs. Grt- 

ville, Mrs. Barbaulcl, Joanna Baillie, Lctltia Elizabetli 

I^anclon, Cliarlotte Elizabeth, Mary Russell Mitfortl, 

Mrs* Coleridge, Mary Ilowitt, Frances ICenible Butler, 

&,€• &>€. ^i-C. 

The whole forming a beautiful specimen of the highly cultivated state of 

the arts in the United States, as regards the paper, typography, 

and binding in rich and various styles. 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
In the department of Ens:lisli poetry, we have Inn? h)oke!l for a spirit cast in nature's finest, yet 
most elevated mould, possessed of the most delicate and exquislLe taste, the keenest perception 
cf the innate true and beauriful in poetry, as opposed to their ojjnosUes, who could erive to us a 
pure collcctiou of tlie British Female Poets; many of them arnoiiji the choicest spirits that evei 
graced and adorned humanity. The object of our search, in tliis disMuct and important missioa 
\s ufcfore us; and we acknowlede:e at once in Dr. Bethuiw;. the g-ifted poet, the eloquent diving 
and the humble Christian, one who combines, in an eminent 6e^ree, all the characteristics nbov«» 
alluded to. It raises the mind loftier, and makes it purified with the soul, to Hoat in an atmos)>liere 
of spiritual purity, to peruse the elegant volume before us, chaste, rich, and beautiful, without and 
within. — T'le Spectator 



We do not remember to have seen any previous attempt to form a poetical bouquet exclusively 
from gardens planted by female hands, and made fragrant and beautiful by woman's srentle culture. 
We know few men equally qualified with the shifted Editor of tiiis volume for the tasteful and 
lUdioious selection and adjustment of the various flowers that are to delight with their sweetness, 
Boothe with their softness, and impart profit with their sentiment. The volume is enriched wita 
B'.ograpnical Sketcnes of some sixty poetesses, each sketch being followed with specimens oharac- 
t*;igtic of her style and powers of verse. In beauty of typography, and general getting up, IhJt 
tvlume is quite equal to the best issues of its tasteful and enterprising publishers. — Episcopal Recorder, 

It is handsomely embellished, and may be described as a casket of gems. Dr. Bethune, who is 
Himself a poet of no mean genius, has in this volume exiubited tiie most retined taste. The work 
Bjay be regarded as a treasury of nearly all the best pieces of British Female Poets. — Inquirer. 

ThisYoinme, which is far more suited for a holyday ijifl: than many which are prepared expressly 
lor the purpose, contains extracts from all the most distin;:ruislied English Female Poets, selectoci 
iri'n t!.e taste and jndsinef<t winch we have a ri2:ht to expect from the eminent divme and highif 
giAed poet who.vc name auonis the title page. It is a rare collecLu)n of the richest gems. — Balti- 
•tore American. 



Dr. Bethune n.ts selected his materials vvith exquisite taste, culling the fairest and sweetoot 
lowers from the extensive field cultivated by the British Female Poets. The brief Biographical 
Notices add much interest to the volume, and vastly increase its value. It is pletisant to find HaLrd- 
working and close-thinkmg divines thus recreatinu; theu'selves, and co.itributmg by their recDMh 
lions to the refinement of the age. Dr. Bethune has brouglit Vj liis task poetic enthusiasm, asd • 
«ady perception of the pure and beautifai — A'. Y. Conwierctal. 



LINDSAY & BLAKISTON 

HAVE JUST PUBLISHED 

THE V/OMEN OF THE SCRIPTURES, 

EDITED BY THE 

REV, H. HASTINGS WELD; 

WITH 

ORIGINAL LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS, 

BY 

DISTINGUISHED AIVIERICAN WRITERS: 

BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED BY 

TWELVE SUPERB ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL, 
BY J. SARTAIN, PHILADELPHIA, 

FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS, EXPRESSLY FOR THE WOia; 

BY T. p. ROSSITER, NEW YORK! 

INCLUDING 



Minam, 


Hannah, 


Esther, 


Eve, 


Rath, 


I'he SyropheniciMi 


Sarah, 


Queen of Sheba, 


Martha, 


Rachel, 


Shunainite, 


The Marys. 



Elegantly Bound in VT'hite Calf, Turkey Morocco, and Cloth 
Extra; with Gilt Edges. 



PREFACE. 

The subject of this book entitles it to a high place among ilhistrated 
olumes. The execution, literary and artistic, will, we are confident, be 
fcund worthy of the theme; since we have received the assistance ot 
authors best known in the sacred literature of our country, in presenting, 
in tlicir various important attitudes and relations, the Women of thii 
Scriptures. The contents of the volume were prepared expressly for it, 
with the exception of the pages from the pen of Mrs. Balfour; and forth« 
republication of her articles, no one who reads them will require an apology. 
The designs for the engravings are original; and the Publishers trust that 
in the present volume they have made their best acknowledgment for me 
favour with which its predecessors have been received. The whole, they 
f>eiieve, will be found no inapt memento of those to whom St. Peter refers 
4he sex for an ensample : ** *he holy women, in the old time." 



LINDSAY & BLAKiSTON 

HAVE RECENTLY PUBLISHED, 

SCENES iN THE LIFE OF THE SAViOUB, 

BY THE 

POETS AND PAINTERS: 

CONTAINING 

«A27V G£M:S of A.1ELT iklTD aS£7IU0, 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF 

THE SAVIOUR'S LIFE AND PASSION. 

EDITED BY THE 

REV. RUFUS GRISWOLD. 

THE ILLUSTRATIONS, WHICH ARE EXQUISITELY ENGRAVED ON STEEL, 
BY JOHN SARTAIN, ARE: 



The Holy Family, painted by N. Poussiu ; 
The Saviour, bv Paul Deliiroche ; 
Christ by the Well of Sychur, by Emelie Signol ; 
The Daughter of Jarius, by Delonne ; 



Walking on the Sea, by Henry Richter ; 
The Ten Lepers, by A. Vanilyke ; 
The Last Supper, by Benjamin West ; 
The Women at the Sepulchre, by PhlUp Viat. 



THE LITERARY CONTENTS, COMFRTSING SIXTY-FOUR POEMS, ARE BY 

(lliltoxi, HeiKiaiis, Montgomery, Keble, Mrs. Sigovirncy, Miss Law* 

don. Dale, Willis, BulfiiicSi, Betliiiiie, liongfellow, Wliittierj 

Croly, Klopstock, Mrs. Osgood, Picrpont, Crosswell, and 

otlier celebrated Poets of tliis and otlier Countries. 

The volume is richly and beautifully bound in Turkey Morocco, gilt, whita 
calf extra, or embossed cloth, gilt edges, sides and back. 



We commend this volume to the attention of those who would place a 
Souvenir in the hands of their friends, to invite them in the purest strains of 
poetry, and by the eloquence of art, to study the Life of the Saviour. — Christ. Oh». 



The contents are so arranged as to constitute a Poetical and Pictorial Life 
of the Saviour, and we can think of no more appropriate gift-book. In typo- 
graphy, embellishments, and binding, we have recently seen nothing mora 
tasteful and rich. — North American. 



We like this book, as well for its beauty as for its elevated character, ft 
is just such an one as is suited, either for a library, or a parlour centre-table ; 
and no one can arise from its perusal without feeling strongly the sublimitjf 
wid enduring character of the Christian religion. — Harrishurg Telegraph. 



This is truly a splendid volume in all its externals, while its contents Rre 
richly worthy of the magnificent style in which they are presented. As illus- 
trations of the Life and Passion of the Saviour of mankind, it will form an 
appropriate Souvenir for the season in which we commemorate his coming 
opon earth. — NeaVs Gazette. 



Christ's charpre to Ptter, by Raphael ; 
Peter and Julm healing the Lame Man at tk 
Beautiful Gate of the Temple, h) Raphael, 
Paul before A;^rippa, by Sartain ; 
John on the Isle of Patmos, by Decaine. 



LINDSAY Si, BLAKISTON'S PUBLICATIONS. 

SCENES fN THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES; 

ILLUSTRATED BY 

CELEBRATED POETS AND PAINTERS. 

EDITED DY 

H, HASTINGS WELD. 
Eight Illustrations, beautifully Engraved on Steel, by Saitaiii* 

the Redeemer, painted by Decaine — Frontis- 
piece ; 

l.ntir>ch in Syria, by Harding— Vi^ette title; 

JjMsn reproving Ilerod. by Le Biun ; 

Hirist, with iifs Disciples, weepnig over Jerusa- 
lem, by Begas; 

TI[E LITERARY CONTENTS CONSIST OF UPWARDS OF SEVENTY POEMS, BY 

fSishop Heber, Lowell, Keble, Ilanaali F. Gould, Clark, Mrs. 
Ilemans, Mrs. Sigourney, Barton, Bryant, 31iss Landon, Tap- 
pan, Pierpont, Longfellow, 31iss Davidson, Dale, Cros- 
well, Fercival, Bow^ring, and other celebrated Poets. 

Beautifully bound, in various styles, to match "Scenes in the Life 
of the Saviour." 

We do not know where we could find a more elegant and appropriate 
present for a Christian friend. It will always have value. It is not one of 
those ephemeral works which are read, looked at, and forgotten. It tells of 
scenes dear to the hearts of Christians, which mtist ever find there an abiding 
place. — Banner of the Cross. 

Here is truly a beautiful volimie, admirable in design, and perfect in ita 
execution. The editor, with a refined taste, and a loving appreciation of 
Scripture history, has selected some of the best writings of ancient and modern 
authors in illustration of various scenes in the Lives of the Apostles, whilst 
his own facile pen has given us in prose a series of excellent contributions. 
The lyre of Heber seems to vibrate again as we turn over its pages ; and 
Keble, Jenner, Cowper, Herrick, Bernard, Barton, and a brilliint host of 
glowing writers, shine again by the light of Christian truth, and the beaming 
effulgence of a pure religion. It is an elegant and appropriate volume for a 
Christmas gift. — Transcript. 

The exterior is novel and beautiful ; the typography is in the highest style 
of the art ; and the engravings, nine in number, are among the best effortg 
of Mr. Sartain. The prose articles contributed by the editor are well written ; 
and the poetical selections are made with judgment. The volume is a worthy 
companion of " Scenes in the Life of the Saviour," and both are much more? 
worthy of Christian patronage than the great mass of annuals. — Frcsbytenar^ 



The at)ovc volumes are among the most elegant specimens from the 
American press. In neatness and chasteness of execution, they are perhaps 
unsurpassed. The engravings are of the highest order; and illustrate most 
Btrikingly, and with great beauty, some of the most sublime and the most 
touching Scrip-ture scenes. They also contain some of the richest specimens 
of Sacred Poetry, whose subject and style are such as deeply to interest the 
imagination, and at the same time to make the heart better. We hope the 
Christian's table, at least, may be adorned with the volumes above mentioned, 
ind such as these. — New England Puritan. 



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